The War of Virtues
by FlawlessCatastrophe
Summary: "It's the 425th Annual Hunger Games, or as others say, the 17th Quarter Quell. What if there was a Twist? Well, of course there'd be a Twist; it's a Quarter Quell, after all. But what if there was something that would benefit these tributes to make the most spectacular Games seen in Hunger Games history? That'd be a generous advantage, wouldn't it be?" Collab w/ CreativeAJL: SYOT
1. The Districts Have Evolved

**Prologue:**

* * *

 **Aiden Petrova, 23;**

 **District One Victor & Mentor**

* * *

Last year was nothing but extraordinary. Who didn't suspect the little girl from Seven to win? Wasn't it quite obvious? I mean, come on, if you didn't expect her to win you either had your head drained in a toilet or just couldn't be bothered to pay attention to any of the current tributes. I'm pretty sure everyone had their bets placed on her; even I didn't believe in my District to bring home a Victor last year.

Seeing as she killed most of the tributes in a matter of days, I don't think anyone had a problem with her being Victor-not even me. She was an interesting tribute for sure. If anything, I sorta wish that she was from One. The female volunteer that we had last year was nothing but disappointing, dying by the hands of, the one and only, Seven.

When she came here on her Victory Tour, it was nothing more than spectacular. You could obviously tell that the girl _hated_ our District, but she didn't let us bother her too much. We welcomed her with a round of applause and a warm welcome like she was one of our own.

Last years tributes were all segregated into three different groups: the elites, the bloodbaths, and the loners. Maple was part of the loners, who weren't given any time of day whatsoever, and nobody bothered to go after her. She was just a predicted bloodbath-the Capitol predicted her a placing of twenty-second.

What a great way to prove them all wrong by winning. Shockingly, she had a Training Score of an _8_ , but the Capitol decided that someone with an _8_ would receive a placing as low as twenty-second. But the best part about her games was when everyone congregated together at the Feast and Maple looked as gregarious as someone could possibly be.

Sure, tributes laughed at her and mocked her, but when you have a tomahawk thrown at your head by the girl you once thought would be dead earlier, it's not as funny as you thought… The looks on people's faces when she won was just... Priceless…

Well, enough of my reminiscing; I think it's time I get out of bed and _actually_ prepare for the Reapings today. I'm a couple hours early, but I'm supposed to be earlier than normal as a Victor, or else there would be consequences or some bull like that. It doesn't really bother me too much. I'm not even sure if the Capitol remembers who I am; it's only been four years since my victory but Victors do die out easily when new ones take the spotlight. Take Caspian Saylor, for example. I'm pretty sure he was suicidal, but that still didn't change the fact I was outshined in a click, snap, flash. But even Caspian didn't matter afterward; Maple took his spot almost immediately.

Struggling out of bed, I groom myself and finish up everything that I need to do. My clothes have been lied out for me ever since yesterday-I thought being ready was easier than rummaging through my closet and trying to find something perfect to wear to the reapings. ''Appearance is everything…'' I mutter to myself, knowing that only Capitolites say something like that.

Rushing downstairs, I tightly grip the handrail keeping me secure, giving me the safety and comfort to know that I won't fall. The glistening light dances across the rail, showing my reflection through the beautiful gold. Every time I walk down here I remember of my games; I remember the tributes that I killed to get here; I remember _how_ I got here.

Looking back at it, I'm not sure if it was all exactly worth it. I mean, I did volunteer for it, but that was only because of the pressure. Coming from a District like this, you're expected to volunteer. If not, what are you other than a disappointment? But I don't like to see it that way. There's more to it, I know that for sure.

Taking my last steps to the opening on my living room, I take in the hickory, melted buttery scent of whatever my mother is cooking. It enters its way through my left nostril and splits into half, moving over to the right and making my mouth water. The smell is so rich that I can almost grab it and taste it, like if I'm lying on a cloud and gliding to a rich paradise of smells just like this one.

My eyes water; not from tears, but from the beauty of it all. It's been quite a while since I've whiffed this scent, because it was never made the way mom made it. We usually had servants, or ''guests'', make them for us. It's just not the same unless someone you know and love makes it, you know?-and it's been years since mom's made what I think I'm smelling: bacon.

Jogging towards the dining room, fully taking in the sweet smell of what I wish to be my breakfast, I stop and take a moment to admire the beautiful scenery in front of me, it's beauty indescribably wonderful to the eye: exquisite colors of paint, the waxed floors that look like mirrors, and the breathtakingly spectacular interior and exterior design that matched like twins. The unique paintings hung high and proud, spreading across various rooms. And the touch of sweet vanilla cream running through the air, but quickly being overshadowed by the bacon that I've yet to receive.

Finally entering the dining room, my parents both catch a glimpse of me and I catch a glimpse of the food held at the table. Like always, I quickly reach in and try to eat, only to have my hand smacked away by my mother's spatula and be scolded at, her words running through ear-to-ear. ''Don't you have somewhere to be?!'' her words catch me off guard, almost as if there was somewhere I _had_ to be, but I forgot. ''The reapings!''

Oh, the reapings…

Yeah, I forgot about those.

''Come on, I haven't had anything to eat yet,'' I beg, leaning against the head table chair and smiling at my mother. Like always, she tells me that it's my fault that I didn't wake up earlier and tells me to march out of the house. See what being generous gets you? You volunteer for _them_ , win for _them_ , and you still can't even live your life the way that _you_ want to; not the way they want you to. Kicking me out of my own house? Come on now, that's just ridiculous.

''Fine,'' I groan, dragging out the 'N', knowing well enough that it won't change the outcome. Instead of waving them off or kissing my parents goodbye, I just walk out of the house making sure that I have everything I need before I head off and further help mentor these volunteers. Really, it all depends on if anyone volunteers or not.

But who am I kidding?

There's always a volunteer.

* * *

 **Caspian Saylor, 24;**

 **District Four Victor & Mentor**

* * *

I wake up to the iridescent lights of the dank hospital room, whiffing the sterile scent of the hospital room. The lights above me buffer, sparks emitting from the broken bulbs like temporary fireflies.

It's all too familiar to me- of course it is. I've been in this room for about eight months now.

"Caspian, baby," my wife says. "Caspian?"

"I'm here," I croak, my voice dropping several octaves. Iridess beams, noticing that I've awaken. "They wouldn't let me in, for like, an hour," she hisses, her eyes widening, but breaking into a good natured smile a second later. She presses her lips to my forehead, indicating a sign of joy and liveliness. It lightens my heart to see that she's been completely happy and healthy while I've been gone.

"You look good," she marvels, her hand held to my cheek softly. An eyebrow is arched up, revealing that she was surprised about it.

I try to roll my eyes, the pupils straining in the process. "Of course I do."

Iridess groans, and flicks me on the neck like she used to do when we were kids. "Seriously, Caspian. Your scars from before are healing, and your skin's gotten clearer." She smirks in that one-sided way I've grown to love. "It's about time. This hospital's absolute crap."

I can't help but laugh, although it disturbs all the tubes going into my veins and my arteries, causing them to shake. "It's not their fault," I protest weakly, choking with mirth. "I _do_ have a lot of problems with injuries and such."

Silence settles in the thin room like a blanket. Injuries have always been a frequently avoided topic, due to my, _ahem,_ conditions. Normal people tend to steer the conversation away from pain, but they never knew it like me. Even if I wasn't born with the pain gene.

"I mean," I cough, trying to bring back the dynamic from earlier. "There was a count of fifty-three cuts and scratches," I rasp in a low tone, eyes widening alarmingly. I wince, awaiting for the next words that come out of my mouth. "And they're all from _me."_

Iridess watches me with a pained expression, trying to empathize with me. Trying is the key word- no matter how close someone was to me, they could never feel what I was feeling. I would never allow them to. They can't carry the burden I've shifted for twenty-four years.

"Are you tired?" Iridess watches me with calculating eyes, trying to find out if I was tired or not. I guess she deems me as 'dazed', because she lifts the corners of her mouth into a brace and leans her head to the side, fluttering her eyes shut.

I was a very peculiar person, actually. People have approached me and told me themselves that I was a daydreamer, and almost always detached. While that might be true, it still didn't excuse the fact that I've went through more than they've ever been through. I've survived through countless beatings and situations.

I remember my therapist from last year. She told me to repeat the facts true to myself over and over, until they burned into my brain and imprinted into my memory. I felt like an idiot at first, but now it's just strictly routine.

And before she told me to do so, she'd mutter, "Breathe in, breathe out."

As Iridess unconsciously brushes my hair to the side many times over, I close my eyes and try to calm down my bouncing nerves. Slowly, but surely, I felt all my strain melt away into my lungs, dissolving away until I needed to summon it again.

 _My name is Caspian Saylor. I am twenty-four years old, and the love of my life is Iridess Hastings. I won the 421st Games when I was eighteen._

I breathe harshly, willing myself to go forward.

 _People say I'm unemotional, detached. A freak. I had purposely harmed myself-_ I choke- _just to see what it would feel like. If I would feel anything. And I didn't- there was nothing. I kept trying to cut my wrist, determined to get a reaction, and I never did. It was futile. I stayed like that, depressed, anguished, and constantly blacking out from blood loss. Because of my obsession with feeling pain._

 _My dad wanted me to volunteer for the Games, but I never had to- I was Reaped, anyway. I went in an insane rage once I found out there was nothing to cut myself with. The moment I entered the Games, I strangled tributes in my path on the way to the Cornucopia, completely taken over with the need to get my hands on a blade. That night there were nine deaths, three from my hands._

 _I went through the Games with a vile, gruesome fascination with blood._

 _The night of the Feast, I had murdered all the tributes. I felt nothing, but I knew there were fatal injuries all over my body. Inch long cuts through my ribs, blood poisoning in my arms, flesh hanging off by a thread on my leg. It was the most horrific thing I've ever experienced, even more than the tributes I was tearing apart. But I kept going, and wouldn't stop until each one was dead._

I tasted blood in my mouth, the salty, bitter taste stinging my tongue. The metallic, pungent scent threatened to blacken my vision, but I needed to finish my train of thought. I glance to my side, yearning for any support, but Iridess had already fallen asleep. I close my eyes again, and this time I concentrate harder than I ever have before.

 _Once they were all gone- the tributes I had seen alive only moments before- I collapsed onto the floor, repelled by what I had just done. I had ended four tributes and felt no whims about it._

 _I went back home, hoping for maybe a loyal and loving District. Instead I received shame. Betraying shame- not one that was obvious but one that was implied. I was still a freak, no matter what I went through._

 _No. Matter. What._

Not even realizing they were there, the tears in my eyes spilled over. Silent sobs racked through the dank room, making it even more ominous and threatening than it was before. Everything just seemed- _against_ me. My injuries weren't actually the reason I was kept here for eight months- scars always healed eventually. It was because I still had millions of pounds of hysterical trauma. And unlike scars, that might never go away.

* * *

 **Maple Wren, 16;**

 **District Seven Victor & Mentor**

* * *

I would say something cliche like, "It felt like just yesterday I was being Reaped for the Games!" but that'd be a lie. You see, it's hard to forget about being in the Games when people are constantly being intimidated by you, as a contrast of being _annoyed_ by you.

Take my life, for example. Roughly about two years ago, I was repeatedly being cursed and hated against by the whole of District Seven. And when I come back, holding five kills in my honor, people treat me as some kind of royalty. Funny how people can change so easily.

Not that I don't like being respected- I really do, but it shows a point that in just two weeks people can go from hating you to loving you. Just because of some fame? Just because I'm the Capitol's _darling?_ If I were them, I'd be intimidated by the fact that I've taken away five lives. If I saw some random, fifteen year-old girl on television brutally murdering kids, I'd be kind of scarred. Who wouldn't?

To be completely honest, I don't pride myself with the number of kills I had. It's just a _number_ \- the thing that actually matters is the person I killed. And no, I'm not talking about 'District Seven Female' or whatever. I mean, their actual name. Their actual _story._

When I was a young girl, maybe around the age of five, I would watch the Games with my parents. You might be thinking of how idiotic my parents were for letting me watch bloody massacre on television, but bear with me. They knew I was mature enough to see the real world. Instead of keeping me locked in my own childhood, they introduced me to the reality millions of people were in. I couldn't have it any other way, actually. I couldn't _imagine_ it any other way.

Anyway, back to the topic. I'd watch these Games, and instead of getting myself immersed with the gore and the placings, I'd carefully watch the tributes. Their stories always interested me the most in show; I'd even find things about them that no one else cared to pay attention to. I would always ponder of their actual life back home, what their parents and friends were thinking, stuff like that. It'd break my heart eventually, however. Watching the tributes I so carefully studied ripped apart in the palms of another teen.

Of course, I'd get over it. I always do.

Well, I always _had._ Ever since I experienced the actual Hunger Games, and not watching it on screens, it's exhausting to get over the people I killed. Especially when you can't break the habit of getting to know them!

Being one of the most avid Games watcher, I knew one of the top skills to know was to never get to know anyone. If you knew more of their story, the more you'd hesitate to kill them, and the more you stop to consider, the more risks you take for your death. And for me, death was not an option.

But of course, when you need your talents and instincts most, they ditch you and screw you over! Not a single Training Day had gone by when I knew the girl from Five's whole family and their personalities. And trust me, she had _a lot_ of family members.

So, when that extremity came in, I knew I had to take huge measures. I shielded myself from allies or friends of any sort, leaving me with no possible advantages except perhaps sponsors.

I turn on my side, cocooning myself in the huge fluffy blankets I supposedly 'earned' from killing those people. The sun peeks through the blinds, and tendrils of wind slip through, ruffling the curtains. Glancing at the clock besides me, the little electronic numbers flash through my retina, reading out '7:49 AM'.

It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to realize I only had ten minutes to get ready.

"Oh, shi-" I began, only to clamp my mouth shut when I remember my no-swearing policy. I grumble other curse alternatives under my breath, wrestling on my boot-cut jeans and a sweatshirt. I'll probably look like a suburban mom or something, but as long as it's comfy, right?

Rushing down stairs, I stomp my already-socked feet into my combat boots- they let me keep it from the Arena- and toss an infinity scarf around my rather scrawny neck.

Five minute changing skills right there. I'm the best teacher you'll ever learn from, so suck up my amazing fashion tips and go about your everyday lives with a new sense of _amazing…_ um, getting-ready-shit.

Whoops. Another dollar in the mental curse jar. I have, oh, about four hundred imaginary dollars in there now.

I stand outside my _posh_ home, impatiently calculating the number of minutes it'll take to bike over there. Hm. Maybe, three, or four. I got this.

Rushing my bike out in the breathtaking greenness of District Seven, I hurry into a regular biking position, and pedal my way out of the gated community of Victor's Village. Air whips to and fro my copper-streaked hair, playing with the dust and throwing it into my pupils. Temporarily blinded, I falter for a second in my continuous biking but keep moving forward anyway. Only a minute left… I could see the Square…

And, within that time limit, I stumble into the smooth pavement and lean my bike against the wall. Pushing through irritated people, muttering, "Excuse me, excuse me… sorry, thanks! Tell your baby to stop grabbing onto things…" and leaving tons of civilians fed up with my straight-forward attitude. I swiftly pace towards the podium where the Mayor and the Escort lie, and send penetrating glares towards me. Baring my teeth, I dust off my jeans sheepishly. Even though there's no grime to be found.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry I'm late," I say breathlessly, forcing on a cheap smile for the cameras. I cough weakly, looking away from the pointed stares and the crowd. It was only my first year as Mentor, and I was quickly proving to be horrible.

I'm just hoping that won't be the case when I actually try to keep the tributes _alive._

* * *

 **Wayne Colair, 18;**

 **District Ten Victor & Mentor **

* * *

Jeez, reaping day already, huh? What a pain. Still, what can I do about it? We're here for a reason, and although I hate that reason, there's nothing I can do about it-no matter how many times I try.

I'm quite upset that today's actually reaping day, though. I don't even think anyone remembers me; not ever since Maple won. Seriously, how do you forget the latest Victor in the matter of a year? She's basically the Capitol's favorite daughter, no matter how rebellious and angry she is.

But still, it's kind of stupid. Just because she ran around the Arena amuck during the Feast doesn't mean that you can forget all about me: _Wayne Colair_.

Passing my hand through my hair, I take in the environment of the District as I walk to the Square, with my left hand in my pocket.

The rural area around here is, and has always been, home. It's like my safe haven, somewhere I know that I'll be safe from all of my insecurities no matter what anyone, or myself, has to say about it. It's just different, you know? I haven't lived in one of these broken down barns in a while.

The red and white barn, with the faded colors to add a touch to it's olden features. Dim and dusky like an evening, the shafts of the light pierce through the rough hewn wood, showing just how old this poor structure is. It's probably been around for decades, judging by the platforms on it.

But the thing that contracts me to it the most is the earthy smell of compost, like the secluded forest floor of my Arena. A soft ambient sound of animals outside, breathing the gentle breeze that embraces the rustic structure. There's a stillness to the movement, almost like I'm the only person here, even though I know that Old Man Jenkins still lives in this broken down barn.

As soon as that thought crosses my mind, he walks out, smiling and holding a shovel to clean out the cow manure. Feeling bad for the old man, I slowly approach him, leaving my hand out to shake his. He's probably been the only person that I've really ever known, besides my mother and sister, of course, to actually enjoy my company.

He's such an altruistic man-and it pains me to see him living in such an unsanitary position. No matter how many times I ask him to move in with my family and I in the Victors' Village, he always refuses and tells me that this old barn is his home, that these animals are his home. He _can't_ possibly leave them-no matter how many times I try to persuade him.

''Old Man Jenkins, why do you still stay here, even though I try over and over again to get you out of this rusted, broken down building?'' I ask, crossing my arms together after shaking his hand. ''You know that it could crumble any day now, right? We wouldn't want a ledge falling on you and breaking a bone, now would we?''

''Oh, Wayne, aren't you just as friendly as ever?'' he asks sarcastically, eyeing me as the wrinkles on his face begin to stretch, showing his age. ''You know this is my home, and no matter how hard you try you know that I won't leave.''

''I just don't see why you find these animals, this home, so important.'' I blurted, only meaning for that to remain a thought that would soon be lost deep into the depths of my mind.

''I-I'm sorry,'' I apologized, quickly grabbing the man's hand. Starting to stutter, I do exactly like I've done my whole life. And that's to just piss people off, but fortunately for me, Old Man Jenkins doesn't mind me saying some hurtful things, despite how wrong they sound.

Like always, he says something amazingly true that contains a general truth; the aphorism about his barn and why he still stays there makes me realize quite a bit, but I would never admit that. Shuffling my feet on the rough gravel, I begin to walk away from Old Man Jenkins.

''Ha ha, I see your point,'' I smile, waving off as I go. ''I guess I'll see you at the reapings, then?'' No answer is received besides a simple nod, but of course, I shouldn't forget that he's got a lot of work to do. Sadly, though, I don't think someone like that should still be working at his age.

It just seems too rough, you know?

My boots skid against the coarse road, kicking pebbles as I walk down the most used street in Ten to head to the Square. As I walk by, everyone starts to wave at me. The thing, though, is that I don't even think that their smiles are genuine-more like something that they _have_ to put on to show respect to their so called ''respect.''

Finishing my route, I make my way to the Square. My gaze is immediately locked on the Capitol banners that are laid on the streamers. To be completely honest, I like the Capitol banners… Most people in Ten despise them, for obvious reasons, but when you think about it, they're actually kinda cool. Nobody cares if the banners are good or not, because of some stupid bombing that was _years_ ago.

I'm here quite early, so there's nothing to do, really. Maybe just walk around, or conversate with other Victors-but I don't think they like me too much.

I make my way to the stage, taking my place in last seat that's lied out. I sit down, watching the crowd fill in about at least twenty people at a time. This sucks, though. Two more tributes from Ten are gonna enter these games, and most likely neither of the two are returning.

Maybe. It all really depends on whether or not their mentoring goes well. And if it doesn't, that's on me. Me, me, me; only me.

But that's fine. I'm new at this, so the most they can do is just shake their heads-something I'm used to happening quite a bit.

* * *

 **A/N: Whale, whale, whale. Would you look at that? A brand fucking new SYOT brought to you by FanFictioners Ansley and Brooke.**

 **Look at you go, already typing the A/N without me.**

 **Sorry, bae. xD But you can, like, edit it afterwards. Mold it to your preferences.**

 **Ain't no sorry, bitch. Ain't no sorry's! Jk. Jk, chill. Calm tf down. Please. D-Don't kill me. Chill. Water. Ice. Cold. ..Stawp.**

 **Stawp. XD This is weird. It really is. No one's gonna tell which one is us, it just won't work out. xD**

 **Nah, I think people'll tell who I am. I mean, my speech is different from others, cuz I'm just amazing like that ;) Jk, I'm not amazing ;U**

 **Eff. You're gonna embarrass me. Now I have to tell you, "NO, BAE! YOU'RE SO FREAKING AMAZING JUST THE WAY YOU ARE!1!" -.-**

 **Just the way I like it to be heard; people telling me I'm amazing. You know how amazing that sounds in my ears? Ugh, I'm like, so… What do you call it? Self-aware? Idk, I barely have a 10th grade vocabulary ._.**

 **Conceited? Narcissistic?**

 **I eat those cereals for breakfast. T-That's what they are, right..?**

 **I swear, this A/N's gonna be hectic as adchksacfhaeuw because of how crazy we are. ._.**

 **Hehe, yup :D So today, guess what? I was with my friends, right? And then we were walking out of class. So, like, I opened up the door and there was supposed to be a coldfront or something like that, so I opened up the door and saw that everyone else was hesitant. Then, when I opened the door, water came pouring down on my head because of all the rain and everyone started laughing. I was like, ''Fucking AIDs, that's messed up.'' And I thought it was bird shit, because birds love shitting on my head.**

 **See, that brings me to another story. When I was, like, 10, I went to a zoo with my camp and a bird shat on my head. I felt a drop, and I told my teacher and she started laughing, and then everyone else did.**

 **Damn. I swear you're ADHD. I see you typing this up, and it's like asdfghjkl. xD**

 **Okay…**

 **I AM ADHD, THAT'S NOT FUNNY! XD I used that as an excuse today in pottery class. Friggin' seniors love meh ;U**

 **Sadly, my life is not as crazy as Ansley's. I have zero stories. ._.**

 **What can you say? I just get hit with the epic shit. Jk, getting shit on by birds isn't epic, although I heard it brought a day of good luck, so that made everything better. So anyway, I was at lunch, right? Yeah, and then we-**

 **Um… I was talking to my friend about the black and white of life, and then she was all, "I SEE IT ALL GREY! THERE IS NO GOOD NOR BAD!" then I brang up satanism and she was like "omfg kill it with fire". See? People change** _ **very**_ **easily. ._. That was lame.**

 **XD Omg. One of my friends and I were at the beach and she convinced herself that she saw Africa from the shorelines. ''No, Ansley, it's Africa. I can even see the tribal people dancing!'' I stood there shocked…**

 **I legit just spit all over my screen. Wtf…**

 **That brings me to another story ;D So you know when you're the only black kid in your class, right? And then you guys start talking about BHM, and then the teacher asks questions about why they were enslaved and shit and everyone stares at you? Yeah, it's awkward ._. Ha ha, I just realized this has nothing to do with the story…**

 **So… we've spent a whole page on what happened this week and nothing to do with the actual story. Great. I feel so freaking prioritized. When I started this A/N, I was all like, "LET'S GET DUN TO BUSINESS *dramatic pause* TO DEFEAT**

 **DA HUNS"**

 **To defeat 'Da Huns…'**

 **I'm insulting Crystal. Quote from her, "I can never use the word 'da' without feeling immediately ashamed." Or something like that, I forgot. And I'm too lazy to check.**

 **Oh. Can you believe I was talking her today and she told me she would kill me if there was a real-life Hunger Games? Psh, I'd obviously place 3rd, and not by the hands of her ;I Crystal, I'ma slam an axe in your face. Then I'm gonna cry because I miss talking about Brooke secretly with someone else.**

 **3rd? Why 3rd?**

 **Fine, 2nd. Ha ha, jk, I'd be first ;) I mean, come on, now… Me. 3rd? 2nd? Pshaw. 1st? Yass.**

 **._. I think we're gonna have to end it here. Because there are questions. This is hilarious, though xD**

 **Ha ha, true. Well, that's all for today, I guess ;D Oh, and don't forget… Birds shitting on your head equals good luck…**

 **...this A/N has been running for three pages. Stawp.**

 **Slob on my knob, like corn on a cob. Check in with me, and do your job. Lay on the bed, and give me- jk xD Omg, I was dying while typing that out.**

 **Ew. Ansley, that's a really bad song. No offense.**

 **I know, but it's hilarious :D**

 **First find a mate, second find a place. Third find a bag, to hide the hoe face. Real name ''Rover.'' I said bend over. I started to knock, then came the odor. Smelled like mush, shouldn't had a woosh. Told her to stop, and take a dush. Once she did that, I didn't want the cat. So I bounced out, and never came back. XD I'm Done, omg.**

 **Go finish the actual SYOT.**

 **Ugh, okay!**

 **Anyway, Ansley and I have made a new SYOT! YAY! Like we didn't have other main priorities. I mean, we obviously have a life ._. But I guess I just felt like making a collab, so that's what happened. Like word vomit. I guess. I don't know. And, uh, like I said, we'll both be working on it. I WANT to say it'll be updated regularly, but I can't promise anything. Because I'm absolute BS on routine, and I'm Procrastination King/Queen. HEY OMFG THAT RHYMES! I CAN BE A… *looks ahead, light shining in eyes* A WRAPPER!**

 **That was so lame, omfg. I'm dolphinitely never doing that again.**

 **Holy hell, I didn't even do that one on porpoise! Efffff.**

 **Since I have no clue what else to put in this, I'll just leave the rest to Ansley and get with the questions. Submit the best of the best tributes, give us creative ideas to work with! :D I promise we'll *most likely* MAKE THIS THE BEST SYOT EVAHHHH! (no promises)**

* * *

 **Gee, I wonder who Ansley and who Brooke are in this situation…?**

 **Did you like the Victors?**

 **Who is your favorite Victor introduced so far? (You see, there is competition. Choose wisely, because two of these guys are Ansley's and two of these guys are Brooke's...**

 **Least favorite? (Same thing as above)**

 **WILL YOU SUBMIT AN AWESOME TRIBUTE?! ;D**

 **Who do you like better: Ansley or Brooke? Answer carefully… I'll fucking cut you, fam.**

 **Fucker.**

 **;P**

 **They're all gonna choose you Dx**

 **I mean, maybe. ._. XD Who cares? I lowkey honestly do...**

* * *

 **I'm afraid that this A/N is actually longer than the actual story…**

 **Yeah. Um. Submit or die. If you want the form, PM one of us and we'll send it over liek dat. *snaps***

 ***disappears***

 **Why are you still here? Gtfo off the story and go submit… Wait, leave a review. Share your opinions ^^ Alright, now get the fuck out. SUBMIT! :D**

 **We're done?! Are we really, really done?! O: BROOKE, BROOKE WE FUCKING DID IT. OMG WE ACTUALLY COMPLETED THE FIRST CHAPTER!**

 **You're not adding this to the chapter, right?**

 **Right?!**

 **Whoops...**


	2. The Capitol is Still Retarded AF

**Prologue Part Two:**

* * *

 **Halaro Briari, 67;**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

 ****Trigger Warning: So much damn drug use.****

LOLO SOMETIHMES IT IS FUN TO BE DRUNK. I LOFF CHAMAPGNE OMFG ITS SO GUD. ME NAME IS HALARO AND I LOVEEEEEEE CHAMPAGNE. MY AUNT BRINGS ME ALCHOLO AVERY TUESDAY ON A TUESDEEEE!

ME BRUH ANSLEY WA+UZ IIKE WASSUP!P!?

"HEYYYZZZZZZ," HE SLURRED AND STARTED SREAMING FIR HIS MUZUMU. ""WHERER YF IS HELENAAAAAAA"

"HERE I AM!" SHE HawWED, AND IT KIND OF SOUNDED LIKE DONKEY FROM SHREK.

* * *

 ***results from a high Brooke**

 **Bitch is crazy… Anyway, onto the chapter. Just think of that as an A/N, and Brooke mimicking what I would say if I was drunk… Thank you, now enjoy…**

 **THOSE WERE FACTS! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YU SAID WHEN YOU WERE DURNK**

 **Yes, that's exactly what I said when I was drunk. Pretend like we didn't announce this in a chapter, don't ask about it, love the chapter. Suck a nutsack, idc, enjoy ._.**

 ***DURNK**

* * *

''Fuck my life,'' I groan, slapping away the books on my shelf. The games, the Capitol, the Districts. All of it is so tiresome. Why am I even here? Why am I even alive?-What is there to life? I'm quite tired of all of this and the only way I can escape is through my habit: drinking.

Reaching into the drawer right under my desk, I pull out a bottle of booze. To my right, there's a glass of tequila. Mixing the two together, I drink the bottle whole and begin to feel dazed instantly. ''Where's my stache of champagne?''

I don't wanna get too loose now, but I might just have to. There's just so much going on in my life right now. I still haven't come up with an Arena yet, the President is sticking his thumb up my ass every day with all these idiotic questions of his, my dumbass daughter does nothing but sit on her ass and get high, and my group of gamemakers is full of idiotic pussies-as you can see, it's a struggle…

''DADDY!'' my idiotic daughter squeals, running through the open doors into my office. Everytime I see this girl I feel disappointed that she has the same genes as me. She runs into the room with the shortest skirt on, her shirt just threatening to shoot off and show her chest. I'm so annoyed right now, I can't even… ''DADDY, GUESS WHAT!''

''Dear God…'' I turn around, praying for at least five seconds before she reveals whatever the hell she's just done. ''Please don't tell me this is another one of your stupid tricks. Please, get the fuck out if it is. I'm not playing this shit again, Helena.''

''Daddy, no,'' she shouts, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around. ''Listen… You know that thing that I told you about that my friends and me have been doing? You know, where we enter those dark rooms and pray to that one person they call the Devil?''

''Oh, my God. Helena, what have you gotten yourself into?'' I ask, actually being interested in what she has to say for once. ''Please don't drag this shit onto me. If you do, I swear to God I'm gonna sell you out on the streets.''

''Daddy, you're silly,'' she chuckles. ''I already sold my body!''

Standing there in shock, my mouth gapes open. ''W-What?'' Did I hear what she said wrong? Because that's what I'm hoping. Someone please tell me that she didn't just say what I think I heard her say.

''Ha ha, that's not important, Dad. But seriously, guess what happened!'' she begs. I don't wanna know what the hell this girl's been up to. ''So I met this guy, right? And oh, my gosh, he gives me life!''

''What?'' I choked. ''He gives you life? Dick got four letters; life got four letters. What does that mean?! Helena, tell me you're not getting dicked down!''

''I told you I sold my body, Daddy,'' she admits. ''But that's not the big thing. Okay, so I know you might be a little bit disappointed in me, but back to that devil topic. I, um… I sold my soul for AIDs.''

''W-What..?''

She gulps, slowly swallowing the spit in her mouth. ''I got AIDs…'' I'm so ashamed right now. Helena is really ignominious. Such a disgraceful daughter, and I'm upset right now. But you know what? She does what she wants to do. She's an adult, she can take care of herself. If she wants AIDs, she can get AIDs.

As soon as I open up my mouth to tell her to get out she pulls out a small bag filled with cocaine. ''H-Helena, don't do this shit in my office.'' It doesn't matter what I ask for now, she's already pulled out a blue bendy straw and has inhaled the cocaine into her right nostril.

''D-Dad!'' she shouts, walking backwards and tripping over herself. She ends up slamming her head on the a portrait of her mother to the right-the impact pushes the portrait off the wall and it cracks on the floor. Dammit, this girl makes my blood pressure soar. ''Daddy, I think I'm gonna die!''

''That's not my problem, sweetie,'' I coughed, turning back to my drank and taking another sip. The alcohol transfers its way into my brain in the matter of minutes, and I feel as if I'm about to pass out. My vision is dazed and I can see white spots all around.

Bursting through my door is the newest gamemaker to my team. Apparently he was top of his class and was recommended to join the big leagues. No matter how smart he is, he's just another pretty boy that Helena will beg to sleep with. And as if on cue, she gets up from the floor and crawls over towards him.

''You're cute!'' she blurted, reaching Jalion. She wraps him into and hug and embraces his body onto hers. He looks slightly uncomfortable but he soon ends up going along with it.

''Thanks,'' he gently pushes her away. ''Anyway, Halaro, the other gamemakers and I came up with a couple of mutt ideas, and an Arena idea, too. We've seen how stressed you were, so we decided to take it upon ourselves to do something to help you out. When you see it, you're gonna love it. Trust me, it's lit.''

''W-What does that mean?''

''Oh, I forgot you were an elder,'' he addresses, placing his hand on his head. ''Nothing, it's a teenager thing.''

''What?! I'ma lit that ass if you don't tell me what the fuck lit means!'' I growled, slowly standing up but tripping over myself and landing on my side. ''Fuck, my hip!''

''Sir, what's wrong?!'' Jalion rushes over to my side, Helena's arms wrapped around his legs, bringing him down as soon as he reaches my side. Staring at the two of them, I realize just how much _my_ life really sucks-and I mean to the point where I want to trap everyone inside of a house and set it on fire as I shoot myself in the temple with a shotgun.

''I landed on my hip!'' I cried, holding onto it tightly. Now I have a goddamn cramp! It hurts like a bitch! My leg feels like it's on fire, and the burning pain is a sensation like no other-and not a good one, either. ''J-Just get out of my office, the both of you.''

''Daddy, no, I can help you!'' Helena began. Knowing her, she's gonna say something stupid-which is totally normal for her. ''I-I can get the cream… The one that removes the crusty hair from your face. And if it can fix that, it must be able to solve your hip problems!''

''Yeet!'' Jalion bursts out laughing, realizing how idiotic Helena truly is. I've tried to tell him multiple times that my daughter was the one person in the Capitol that he would want to stay away from. My poor, hapless old body never seems to have anything good happen to it-and Helen proved that was true a long time ago.

''What was that? Yeet? What the hell does that mean..?'' There's an awkward silence for at least three minutes before anyone else replies-and that one person was me. ''F-Fuck did you just do? Tell me what the fuck you just did before you get yo ass beat, bitch.''

''It was nothing,'' Jalion reassures, a smile crossing his lips. Picking myself up, I dust all of the dirt off of my shirt. Helena is already standing up, and although I'm drunk and everything, I feel as though there's something I need to do. Maybe walk around the Capitol for a bit, you know? Get my mind off of things and maybe go for a relaxing swim.

''Whatever,'' I sigh, rubbing my hip in an awkward fashion. Helena runs over to me and slams her knee into my hip on accident, jumping back as she sees me writhe in pain. Damn, I'm so tired of Helena! I love this girl, but I can't keep her in my house for much longer. This girl needs to get some dick and move out of my house or something!

''Daddy, please, let me get the cream!''

''No!'' I denied, pushing her away. Resenting her officious behavior, I start walking to the front door of my house. ''I don't care what you two do, or what you want to do, but get the hell out of my house. I'm going out for a walk, and maybe even swim if it's nice outside.''

Jalion nods his head as he gets up. Helena just smiles at me, a weird look on her face. I'm about to ask her a question until she opens up her mouth. ''Don't forget to bring a condom.'' Yet again, there's another awkward silence. After she said that, she winked at me.

Sighing, I ignore her words and walk out of my house. _Don't forget to bring a condom…_ What the hell..? This girl's on something else, because I've never seen someone as retarded as her. I think I've lost a couple of brain cells from constantly being with her every day of my damn life. Her negative IQ is affecting me in a terrible way.

And a condom? ...I'm sixty-seven years old. Idiotic girl thinks I'm still sexually active. Ha, well, at least she knows her old man can get coochie any day of the week now. She may be idiotic, but I still love her.

At least I think I do. Dammit, Helena!

* * *

 **Demerious Givenchy, 8;**

 **Announcer**

* * *

WOAHHHHH, LOOK AT ALL THE UNICORNS OUTSIDE! I thought to myself blissfully as the artificial birds sang their chorus of Rustin Beaver's "Rabies". I started jamming to the music in the My Little Baloney PJs had on. I had Sparkle Butt on my right leg pant, Diamond Arse on the other, and Multicolored Bitch on my arms. Everything was as wonderful, and amazing, and good, and amazing as could be!

Just kidding. I'm not stupid enough to believe in unicorns, do you take me as some kind of fool?! All these Capitolites around me wish they could bathe in my awesomeness. Well, guess what?! T-They couldn't! Haha, best comebacks of the year 253172674178! #DemeriousIsSuchHot #MuchDoge

Right in front of me was a strategically placed mirror where I can reminisce on my looks. This was what I did every morning when I woke up, because everyday I know there was going to be an audience reading on how fabulous and how much of a hot guy I was. I had ruffled, wind-broken neon locks that framed my manly jaw. It took me approximately 8.3 light years to get every hair in the right position! My lips were chiseled by the gods, and veridian lip gloss was smeared on every orifice. People in the Districts always whispered, "Gay…" when I was around, and honestly, I'm honored af! I _was_ a happy person, so every time they said it I was like, "Aw, thanks bae! Kiss kiss, love ya, bye!"

Literally, though! They were sooo amazing, and so nice. I don't understand why Capitolites talk trash about the Districts all the time. I mean, it's not like they ever tried to bomb our country four hundred and twenty-five years ago when they wouldn't keep the peace…!

Anyway, back to describing how hot I was. I was six feet tall, even though I was just eight. And before you go off on a tangent, no! I did not take steroids OR plastic surgery. First of all, steroids are for dinosaurs, and second, plastic surgery is how all the bitches who aren't happy enough with themselves do it. I was 93% confident in myself, thank you very much! Plus, why couldn't people understand that _sometimes,_ genetics could bless you so hard that you tower up to six feet on your fifth birthday? Ugh. Sometimes I get offended, making me want to rip their throats out, then I remember I got a manicure the day before and couldn't do that or else I'd like, ruin my nails!

LOL! How did I get from the topic of dinosaurs to my supes-dupes manicure? Sometimes I surprise myself with my AIDs.

No, silly! I don't mean ADHD. I mean AIDS! Always an Ignorant Douche, Suck it! Hehe. I'm amazing, I know.

Sometimes I surprise myself with my awesomeness. Like, who could be as handsome, loving, caring and intelligent as moi? No one! Except for those copyrighted cereals who always try to be me. Like, Froot Poops? Seriously? You know how _offended_ I am, right now?!

"DEMERIOUS!" my idiot mom screams, her voice pitching several octaves. "GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND TELL ME WHAT TWO PLUS TWO IS!"

"IT'S. NINE. TEEN!" I screech back, my voice even higher than hers, resulting in my neighbor's ears being broken for the fifty-second time this month. My voice is so amazing, that when I sing it cracks the sanity of rocks. Like, totes woah!

And, being the modest person I am, I'm going to admit that this powerful stunt isn't because of my wonderful genetics. My bestie Helena gave me this powdery white stuff, and called it 'crack' because if you sniffed it, you could CRACK rocks! Coolio, right?

Then the next day came, and she brought more powdery white stuff and called it 'Unicorn Dust'. It totally wasn't the same thing, even though it smelled, tasted, and gave the same effects as 'crack'...!

Maybe it's time to get off my bed, I thought to myself. I spent about five days lying here, so I guess it's past the point to actually get ready for the Announcement.

I grab my pillowcase and fashion it around my body to resemble clothes. There! I'm all perfect, now!

Opening the window, I jump off the sill. Wind chases to catch up with my body as I bounce on the trampoline placed directly out of my house.

"Oh, Your Majesty, Demerious Givenchy, sir," tones one of the coaches outside the Nyan Cat limousine. "What a beautiful black and blue dress you have, sir."

Being the anti-cliche person I am, I snap, "It's not black and blue. It's magenta and silver!" Everyone else would say that it was white and gold, but that was stupid. T-those were cereals I ate for breakfast. That's what they were called, r-right?

I hop into the leather beauty that was my personal limo. I felt my stomach grumble, so I decided to eat a light, healthy, well-combined breakfast full of nutritional foods such as Fat Macs, Cow-Fil-A pancake fries, and Red-orical Bullz. Of course, being the athletic person I was, I also took a single carrot that was nine millimeters long. So, basically as long as Rustin Beaver's weewee!

HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA, I AM SO HILARIOUS.

* * *

"Hey, watch the hair, hoe," I growl, slapping one of the stylists with my baby hands. "It took me 8.3 light years to get that done. So chu better get your hands away from my luscious locks."

Ugh. Sometimes my life was so hard. I honestly don't know how I lived like this, but… I survived. I survived each and every day with a fiery passion to live life to the fullest.

"Sir, you're up in five," says one of the peasants holding a clipboard.

"You don't tell me what to do," I snap, my face distorting into one of fabulous amazingness.

"OH MY EFFING GABLAHAM," she exclaims, melting to the floor. "YOU'RE COMPLETELY RIGHT, KING DEMERIOUS! FORGIVE ME! MARRY ME!"

Too bad for her, I am called out to the stage a moment later. It's time for my super awesome Announcement of awesomeness.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" Exclaiming, I start to do the Whip all around the stage. Everyone cheers for the man they only _wish_ they could have.

"Uh!" I groan, and start to set my body on the floor. Thrusting onto the cold, hard ground, I start to blast out Taytay Bitch's "Bubble". "NOW I'M LYING ON THE COLD, HARD GROUND," I screech. "OHHH! OHHHH! BUBBLE, BUBBLE, BUBBLE…!"

Everyone claps politely because that's just how good I am. I stand back up, brush my pillowcase, and wait for the applause to end.

And after about half an hour, nothing stops. "Okay, you can stop now, byotches," I declare, irritated. These people don't know how to shut up.

I prepare the card the President gifted me on the way to the podium. Waving it in front of the audience teasingly, I chuckle as the sound magnifies around the auditorium. "Bet ya'll are waiting for the true treat of this event," I smirk, putting my hands on my hints.

The crowd goes deadly silent as they anticipate what was going to be said next.

Throwing my arms up in the air, I bare a benevolent grin. "IT'S ME!" I blurt out, leaving the audience in an uproar. "I'M FUCKING AMAZING, I KNOW, MY SWEET BABY ANGEL FACES!" I tossed the card with my entire speech written on it, even though it was 100% vital to the whole show. I mean, screw that. I'm here, and I'm a thousand times better of a replacement than some random paper shit.

"Hey," the President forces appallingly, slitting her hand across her neck in the universal sign for peace. "THAT'S NOT PART OF THE SCRIPT!"

"But the script is boringggg." I whine, shaking my arms around like a child throwing a tantrum. #ForeverYoung #Youth #TroyLevine

"If you don't listen to me, I'll- I'll revoke your privilege for free buffets every Wednesday!"

My vision goes red, and unconsciously my fists start clenching. "You don't dare."

"I'm your queen, bitch! I do what I want!"

I groan massively, spilling all my rage onto the stage floor. "Fine." I croak. "But it's only for the buffet."

"NEVER MIND!" I exclaim, leaving the Capitol and the cameras utterly and completely confused once more. "I-I'm not actually the treat."

The whole place goes so reticent that you could hear an elephant die.

"I-I know," I start tearing up. "M-My life is so hard. I can't even choose between the strawberry pina colada or the orange milkshake."

With my heart in my hands, I bend over to pick up the fallen card. "This card," I announce, holding up the paper, "has the answer to life and everything truly meaningful."

 _Hushhhhh._

"Eff the skinny female dogs. Eff the skinny female dogs in the club. I wanna see the big fat donkey female dogs in the mothereffin' club. Eff all the skinny female dogs. Kyuh!"

The President's head peeks out of the curtains again. "Hiss!"

"Ugh, what do you want again?!" I demand, rolling my eyes over.

"You. Read. The damn. Paper. Upside down!"

"So, you're insinuating that I'm wrong?!"

Seeing now that she was completely fed up with me, the President bounces onto the stage.

"Hellloooo, Capitol!" she exclaims, raising her hands up for applause. The audience goes wild, and the President actually looked genuine and stage-worthy.

"Since this retard couldn't finish his statement," she beams, "I'll do it for him! He was supposed to say the Twist for this year's Quarter Quell, but you see, that obviously didn't happen.

The Capitol laughs on cue, leaving me feeling blessed and touched. I'm a retard? Wow, she called me patient! Totes adding that to my list of wonderful qualities!

"For the 425th Annual Hunger Games," she quotes, eyeing each and every Capitolite in the front row, "the tributes will be gifted powers to show that even with heightened abilities, they can never escape the Capitol. And also because the 83rd Games were a complete flop with their powers." She nods, seeming pleased. "Thank you for your time, Panem! Have a nice night!" The President runs off stage, dragging and choking me along.

"Next time you do a crap take like that," she snarls, digging her nails into my neck, "I will personally guide you to your public execution." She hooks her arm across her neck, her eyes like fatal daggers in blood wounds.

She totes has a crush on me.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! It's Brooke, the** **more amazing** **collab partner! I know, I've been meaning to tell you this a long time ago, and my friends and I finally have the Hunger Games Spoof thing ready! The link is here. If you take time to copy it, that is. But it'll be totally worth it.**

 **tube** **watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ**

 **Did you say the more amazing collab partner?! Brooke, you're funny as hell… More amazing.. Psh… Naww… Nah… No.. Hell no. Tf?**

 **I know! I'm the most hilarious person I know! Especially when I compliment you….!**

 **You got jokes, huh? Bitch got jokes. ._.**

 **AND COWS GOT MILK. Omfg, #ProAnalogies**

 **What does that mean? XD**

 **Analogies?**

 **Yes, that big word.**

… **forget 10th grade vocab, you've dropped to 4th.**

 **Lmao, duh. Less than 4th. Why do you think I'm so repetitive? Do you know how long it takes me to search on Google for big words? XD**

 **And why does everyone think you're eight…? I wonder…**

 **ILLUMINATI CONFIRMED**

 **Because I have a baby face, according to everyone who's seen me. -_- Puberty isn't good on me.**

 **No. Because you're trying to blame Obama, Osama, and all those other people! You got the power of da media, Ansley. And you're trying to drive the evidence away from yourself by making all these wacko theories that dun even make sense. But all the fans believe you, because you're funny. While you're secretly doing your illuminati crap in your basement in Chicago- you sell crack to pay off your research debts.**

 **I am funny ;U But it's on accident, I guess, because of my personality? BROOKE! Shut the hell up! The pretentious Chicago drug dealer at the age of eight to work on my Illuminati conspiracies was supposed to be a secret, dammit. :/ Y-You've exposed me… Speaking of the pretentious Chicago drug dealer, I got you if you need a hook up. I mean, I'm in the mafia, and I'm low rank so I can't go out and cap people like the boss does, but I can sell! So If you want, I got a website: Eightyearolddrugdealer. blogspot. com. I got you, and I'm like a walking Publix. You want paper bags, plastic bags, toilet paper? I got you…**

 **Person: Last week there were reports of a woman murdered. I found a gun with Ansley's fingerprints on it!**

 **Ansley: REALLY?! W-Well, y-you're STUPID!**

 **#HowYouKnowAnsley'sAmazingAtComebacks**

 **Listen, I'm amazing at comebacks when it's a one-on-one type of situation, but when I'm in front of people it's awkward and I end up saying something stupid and nervously sweating, overheating my body and causing me to have a stroke where I get hospitalized for over three months and end up paralyzed.**

 **And getting brain cancer. That's why Ansley is so retarded today. ;)**

 **I WAS DROPPED AS A BABY, OKAYYYY?! My cerebral, if that's what you call it, is all fucked up now.**

 **DON'T YOU USE ELENA'S EXCUSE, WE ALL KNEW HER IQ TURNED OUT TO BE OVER 9000.**

 ***cough* Because of me it did ;)**

 **And you made that blooper up, anyway! Hmm! SUSPICIOUS! I SWEAR ANSLEY'S MAFIA.**

 **I am lol. I have people kneeling at my house door, like every damn day. You should see all the gifts I get showered with. I even wear my golden crown as I take a shower, scrubbing hard to make sure that dirt doesn't get on it. Then one day, I'm gonna migrate to Mexico just for the fun of it while wearing my crown and end up getting jacked. Once I do, I'll lose my transporter, because I'ma make one when I get older, and end up getting eaten by the Chupacabra… Or just, blood drained and end up with some type of infectious disease that ends my life in three days. But one of these days… I'm predicting it. I'm dying at the age of 17 in Chicago after I migrate from my home after dropping out of High School in Senior Year because I wanna prove to everyone that you don't need school! If you believe in yourself, anything can happen. You can become the World's greatest engineer, doctor, actor, pornstar, whatever tf you want!**

 **Okay, this went from the mafia to… pornstar? Hell no. I don't want that word in my Google Docs.**

 **You can delete your history any day of the week now, Brooke… Any day now…**

 **You know what? I'm gonna introduce a show on my YouTube acc. Posting videos on Monday about "Why Ansley is a Dickhead pt.2" and life hacks on Wednesday! My YouTube acc is TaylorSwiftVEVO, also where the Spoof is under.**

 **What happened to Ansley is a Dickhead pt.1?**

 **In fact, I'll show you a life hack right now! ._. Stay in your place, Peasant #42.**

 **You know I wanted to be Peasant#1 when you took over the World ;( But of course, I have to be Peasant#42. Well, jokes on you. 4 and 2 are my two favorite numbers, so suck it. ;3**

 **4+2 is 6. And 6 times 3 is 18. And 1+8 is 9. And 9 is spelled like "NINE" which is also how you say the German word for "no"! And no is considered rude especially towards elders when you don't listen to them. And what do you use to listen? YOUR EARS. GUESS WHAT?! EARS IN SPANISH IS OREJAS! AND IT REMINDS ME OF ORANGES! HOW MANY LETTERS DOES ORANGES HAVE?!**

 **4?**

 **SEVEN. THERE ARE SEVEN LETTERS. Seven wonders of the world. You see, and a pyramid is one of them. Guess what a sun over a pyramid means? A KEYHOLE. YES, THAT'S RIGHT. IT LOOKS LIKE A KEYHOLE. Ancient Egyptians have hieroglyphics of futuristic transportation like helicopters, and even UFOs. You see where this is going? DO YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING?!**

 **And after the second day, when the sun sets down, it lands right in the center of the pyramid, making the all-known, famous symbol for…**

 **Nachos.**

 **Yes, nachos. I bet ya'll were thinking I was about to say Illuminati, RIGHT?! Well, guess what?! Y-You weren't right…! AT ALL! NACHOS ARE LOVE, NACHOS ARE LIFE! SUCKERS!**

 **Damn, I thought this was another Illuminati conspiracy. I was gonna show this to the News before I get killed, but I mean… Alright. Gratata…**

 **Yeah. ._. I'M NUMBER ONE THEORIST, GUYS! YOU CAN'T TRUST ANSLEY! HE'S NOT THE ILLUMINATI OR THE MAFIA, HE'S PART OF THE KEY CLUB AND THE NACHO SQUAD.**

 **Idk wtf that means, but I'll go with it o.o**

 **I think we should end it here xD**

 **WAIT! NO, I NEED TO FINISH SELF-ADVERTISING. Alright, add me on Snapchat, PretentiousEightYearOldDealer, follow me on Instagram: ballislife6969, add me on FaceBook: My Mom Hates Me And Tells Me To Fuck Off. Follow me on Twitter: MethIsLife, and even email me. My Email is GotYoBitchDoinSplitsOnMyDick265. Oh, and don't forget my address. This is my legit address, come visit me and we can have nice chats. ._. 121 N. LaSalle Street Chicago, Illinois 60602.**

 **XD None of that info up there is real, I was just curious as to if anyone would search it up… Um, Idk who's address that is, or where it even leads, but I'm hoping it's to a vet… I mean, if you got injured pets and they need help stat, then go there. Tell them Ansley sent you. ;)**

 **And here's an episode of "Brooke's Guide to Your Miserable Life". And legit, these are actual, helpful tips. I'm not even kidding.**

 **So, you know when you're trying to lie convincingly and crap? Even though you're terrible at it? I have shined light on what may be the biggest discovery on the media. I have brought up a new way to lie, and you don't even have to do it convincingly. Hell, the point is to look suspicious as possible. Hear me out.**

 **Let's say you're staring at someone because… uh, you like them. Whatever. Then your friend comes up and is like, "Why are you staring at _(that person)?" You should tell the truth, only do it really suspiciously. So you strike a model pose and put on a completely fake smile and say, "B-Because I have a crush on them….! YEAH, TOTALLY!" *where you laugh nervously* "Y-YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT!"**

 **Wait… What's your advice if people don't wanna buy your mixtape? So you know when you stand on those street corners at McDonald's and wave your CD? See, so Drake signed me a while ago, and Drake is straight but I was tryna sell my own shit… I got 70$ by overpricing the disk, but like… Idk what to do o.o**

 ***flips desk* WILL BE FEATURED, NEXT TIME ON THE TONIGHT SHOW!**

 **Wait, what? When I need your advice you leave me hanging. Dammit, Brooke, I'm gonna, like, slap you through a screen! I wish I could, though… I would've slapped so many people by now if I could ;U**

* * *

 _Questions:_

 _Who is your favorite pretentious Capitol asshole?_

 _What was your favorite part of this chapter?_

 _What was your favorite part in the A/N?_

 _Hey, I'm just curious but… HAS ANYONE HERE ORDERED THE DOUBLE STRAP X L'S BY SKECHERS? OMG, THEM SHITS LIGHT UP… THEY LIT AF! OMG! Literally… Dead ass, I threw away all my Jordans, Nikes, Vans, Sperries, everything for Sketchers. Sketchers are lit af, and I'm so happy I bought them. Like, I mean… It's suspect, but Sketchers are lit af..!_

 _Stretchers lol._

 _XD Yes, I said Stretchers at first. I forgot what they were called, Brooke, you can't blame me…_

 _****What's your advice if people don't wanna buy your mixtape? This question is specifically for Ansley. Don't say don't try to sell it… Fucking… Fucking… Fucking things…_

 _****Is Brooke the more amazing collab author? List details for why and why not. You better say yes, bitches…._

 _Say no. If you say yes, omg, I'm gonna die. Literally, I will walk up to my boss and ask him to cap me in the forehead, leaving this to be a one-person story. Unless you hate me, you won't say Brooke. If you hate me, I totally understand… but why? o_o WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU?!_

 _MY NAME IS ANSLEY I'M A COMPLETE DOUCHEBAg_

 _My name is Brooke and I piss on my friends in a game of one-on-one._

 _It's what I do best. ;)_

 _Omg, I piss on my friends, too.. See, we usually make bets, and whoever loses either pays up or has to get pissed on. And my friends are suspect af and are into some weird kinky shit, and it makes me feel uncomfortable, so I can't fuck wit' them no more ._. I'm totally kidding, by the way… I feel like it's hard for people to tell if I'm joking because I'm weird like that… but hey, it's all good ^-^_

* * *

 _**** means you answer it or die. Thanks, readers, and have a wonderful day/night!_

 _HEY HURRY UP I'MA 'BOUT TO POST_

 _WAIT! Okay, Ansley here with one last thing before Brooke posts this. You know when you're, and this is probably years in the future, child is about to graduate from High School and it makes you so happy?! Has anyone here practiced their speech for one their child graduates? I have mine planned out. ''That's my boy! Yeah, he came from my ballsack!''_

Guys… Guys.. Submit more males.. We have like, 373 females, and it's so weird… But you know when you're teacher pregnant, right? Yeah, and she's out forever, and everyone's like ''congratulations?!'' Ha ha, is anyone else here the one kid who instantly thinks of, ''You been fuckin' Mrs. _?'' I probably am, ha ha… This is weird.

OMG, so I have this story. I was taking this test with my friend, right? Well, he was the last one left and I was trying to whisper to him and ask him if he was done because he was just sitting and staring at his desk. And you know when you try to whisper and people hear you wrong? So I asked him if he was finished and he blurted out, ''Will I suck your dick?!'' and gave me a disturbed look… Knowing me, I turned to the teacher and smiled… Probably the wrong thing to do, because…

''Ansley, go to the office,'' was the only thing she said. Idk if I failed that test or not, but that's one day I'll never forget.

No homo, though.

OKAY, NOW UPDATE IT!


	3. Exposing Tributes

**Official Tributes:**

* * *

 **Magnaria Parsae, 22;**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

Trespassing into places you shouldn't be is pretty much forbidden everywhere, nowadays. Everyone thinks it's so taboo that no one even dares try it; but that also meant no one would care if anyone did.

Well, almost everyone. When I say that, it means everyone except me.

It's kind of weird, actually. Fitting in was never my main concern in life, but rather sticking out like a sore thumb. I guess diversity's just my thing. Both that and breaking rules; after all, they were made to be crushed and disobeyed, anyway.

One of the Capitol's most important rules was to respect another's privacy, yet unlike most orders, people actually followed that rule and never rebelled against it. In my opinion, no one's curious enough to risk the consequences like I am. Then again, I guess everyone just can't be clones of each other. That'd defeat the purpose of being your own person, am I right?

Currently, I was standing outside of Head Gamemaker Briari's quarters with my heart hammering in my chest. In my hand was a sleek, silver key that was the perfect shape and size for the room's lock. There was some information I needed - no, wanted - to have. And nothing as idiotic as a locked door would stop me from getting what I wanted.

Rumor had been going around the Capitol that the each year, the annual Head Gamemaker rigged the Reapings for all the non-Career Districts. It was said that he or she had a specific purpose for each tribute, and automatically knew who the Victor was going to be from the very beginning. At first, I doubted it, but when more key elements came into play I started to believe the so-called 'lies'.

It's very peculiar, really. But not very hard to explain. The evidence was brought up so broadly, so accurately that one couldn't help but have faith in the theory whether it was true or not. All the aspects of the story were just so strategically placed that it forced me to either break into the Head Gamemaker's Quarters and find out for myself, or die from burning curiosity. The choice was easy; who would pass up the chance to break into a prohibited room, especially when they had the exact key at the tip of their fingers? Only a fool would reject the opportunity.

Concluding the story, I decided to not be a fool and find out if the rumors were lies or truth. It was the reason why I had chosen to break into a room at midnight.

 _It'll be fast,_ I told myself. _Just a minute. Either way, it's for the whole world. They deserve to know this._

I also told myself that 'the people' were the reason why I had so eagerly took up the challenge, but I knew I was lying to myself. It was only because of my damn selfishness and curiosity, but the others sure did promote to the cause.

I jammed the shining key into the lock, twisting it forcefully sideways and relishing the soft click as the door opens. A slow, eerie sound was heard as the shabby white door creaked open, revealing piles of paper in every direction and each surface covered with an item, whether that item be two day-old coffee, folders, or bottles of alcohol.

There was no organization, no coordination in the dark room. The walls were splashed with a pungent black color, and the glossed wood floor was littered with pens and scraps of… something.

If I wasn't so dead-set on my goal, I would've bolted at the sight of the imbalance and chaos in the room. It lacked everything quiet and tidy, and instead of giving a professional aura, it had an uneasy one instead. Something just felt… off. There was something dark in this room; something ominous, satanic, hellish, corrupt.

Perhaps his daughter had been here recently.

I gulped, my heart's pace quickening as I strolled through the tight room. For an official office, it was quite small - or maybe I just thought that because of the organization and homeliness that this place lacked. My boot had fell into a puddle of liquid (of which I do not want to know the origin) a minute earlier, which only proved how chaotic the room had really been.

The search felt fruitless. Piles and piles of folders and loose papers were everywhere, none with a label and each one falling apart like an ancient text. It seemed hopeless, finding _anything_ in the sea of blank sheets.

Upon cabinet and cabinet, there was nothing. I took a quick glimpse at the destroyed desk, catching my eye on a folder with _Tributes_ scrawled on it with urgent. messy handwriting.

That was going to change the Capitol forever; the original theory had been correct. It was finally solved after solid years.

I wrestled out a micro-chronosensor from my back pocket, and saved several images on the database. Within seconds, it was on the Internet. It was bound to only be mere seconds before someone found that document.

And when the satisfying _ching_ of publicity is heard, I nod and smile to myself. It's official. The Head Gamemaker had rigged the Reaping from the very beginning, and now I finally had the definite proof.

But as I turn my back, shielding my eyes from the resting _Tribute_ folder, I had an anxious, nervous feeling. My mind was telling me to go back. Telling me to go back… to do what?

 _Look. At the tributes._

Of course. Little Magnaria can't cope with fighting against her nerve-racking curiosity.

A nagging sensation tugged at the back of my brain, leaving me with a minuscule discomfort that I felt was about to blow me up into tiny, little bits any second. My arms started to shake, and my fingers fidgeted.

 _Just a peek. One. Look._

And being the weak-willed shit I am, I whip around, opening to folder and scrolling through the precious names and information.

* * *

 _Tributes_

 _District One Male & Female: Kent Castell & Grace Orita_

 _District Two Male & Female: Remus Carnale & Delphine Damaris_

 _District Three Male & Female: Antonio "Ant" Blythe & Pixie Red_

 _District Four Male & Female: Kollan Teratai & Davina Covett_

 _District Five Male & Female: Caydon Valdina & Milena "Mila" Starkov_

 _District Six Male & Female: Pavel Elsbeth & Delta Reenes_

 _District Seven Male & Female: Jago Sewart & Rosita "Rose" Prime_

 _District Eight Male & Female: Jute Wivel & Mauve Schmidt _

_District Nine Male & Female: Alvino Thornton & Wendla Corinth_

 _District Ten Male & Female: Kael Ellis & Juniper Grimizan_

 _District Eleven Male & Female: Fertil "Til" Enset & Kaziah Gremor_

 _District Twelve Male & Female: Calvin Doobs & Vivian Ash_

* * *

Upon seeing the last of the names, I let go of the folder tab, a breath escaping my lips as I realize how much I've seen and how much I've done. _They could kill me for this,_ I whisper mentally, eyes wide as I graze the falling manilla folder. _This is it._

Out of context, the tribute list was nothing but names and numbers. There was absolutely nothing special about names or numbers, I'd think. But I was wrong; so wrong.

People argue over this. People debate over this. People _kill_ for this.

At least, they used to. Everything's just gone downhill since the 423th Games, when Halaro was nominated as Head Gamemaker. Because of _him_ , the whole system's gone awry. Panem was not its same, powerful, harmonizing nation from before. It's changed. Immensely.

Out of the depths of hell, a crimson dot of blinding light erupts from the ceiling. It screams, keeps screaming, and doesn't stop screaming. _Ever._ My already-jumbled nerves jump up higher, and the rate my heart is beating becomes faster and faster. _No. This isn't supposed to happen._

A searing light is pierced through the back of my cornea, and the red light is all I can see. The blaring is all I can hear. _No no no no no no no -_

An unearthly sound is heard, sounding alien and animal and human all at the same time. The voice keeps torturing me again and again and again until it becomes more ominous than the beeping ever was. I became dimly aware that the voice might've been from me, but it was ghastly. I didn't care. I didn't _want_ to care. At one point, my lungs were horribly raw from screaming.

But there is a boundary that you cross when you start to lose yourself; sometimes you can't stop. If you want to or not.

The door of the office slams open, making a crackling sound as the wood breaks and falls apart, splinter by splinter. Pounds of footsteps burst inside, as their jet-black coats surround and create the world into an infinite mess of blobs and swirls. Blobs and swirls I couldn't even begin to tell apart.

Gruff hands start to pull me forwards, yanking at my hands until they feel sore and broken apart. All the joints were raw and bloody; well, at least they felt that way in the inside. It might've been broken for real. Might've. But I was too unfocused to mind it; I couldn't do anything about it. My head was swirling like I just took a swig of alcohol, but the only alcohol I took was probably a dose of insanity.

Liquid insanity…

And then, for some reason, I felt an impulse to say a loose string of words I had just made up in my warped brain. I garbled something along the lines of "pretentious glass mole brother duck erm" and immediately afterwards felt an explosive pain bubble up in the back of my skull. It felt like molten lead was coursing through my body, setting my blood on fire and my vision black.

By now, one is supposed to be passing out, but I couldn't. I wouldn't. I absolutely, downright _refused._ How fucking stupid would that be?! Risking my life for a picture, then going through both mental and physical pain over and over again and ultimately dying in the end? I wasn't gonna take any of this shit. Magnaria is a fucking _survivor._

My vision was dark. My mind was faded. My body was limp and paralyzed. But I knew it was only temporary. Pain was only temporary. Life is too short to focus on all the pain you've dealt through, because literally no one has the goddamned time for that. I would regain my strength eventually. I'd get my short-lived revenge. Under whatever circumstances, I told myself that I'd fulfill my promises. I couldn't think anything except the word, "go".

That word symbolized many things, but only I knew what it genuinely meant.

* * *

 **A/N: You know what? Let's go eat Poptarts or something.**

 **XD OMFG YES! I'm gonna drink my coke with it, omfggggg imagine! Lmao! XD Is it bad that I literally just ate a poptart in 50 seconds..? I don't even know, eating poptarts usually take me about 9 minutes each. I DID, OMG! I'VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE OMFG LOL LIKE, I HAVE CRUMBS ALL OVER MY FACE AND SHIT XD AND I'M DRINKING COKE WITH IT, SO IT'S ALREADY RUSHED TO MY HEAD, I AM LIGHTWEIGHT, AREN'T I? WTF?!**

 **._. We already started the A/N.**

 **NO WAY DUDDDEEE, YOU SERIOUS? I THOUGHT THIS WAS JUST SOME PRACTICE SHIT, OMG XD**

 **ANSLEY WE DON'T PRACTICE A/NS. HAHA *laughs nervously***

 **LOL DUDE OMG, YOU SHOULD'VE OMG, I HAVE SO MANY STORIES TODAY! GUESS WHAT!**

 **...what?**

 **LOL, OKAY, SO I GOT SENT TO THE OFFICE TWICE YESTERDAY, TWO PERIODS AFTER EACH OTHER FOR SOME STUPID SHIT. SO I WAS IN FRENCH CLASS, AND WE HAD TO PRESENT AND SHIT, AND WE HAD A SUBSTITUTE SO EVERYONE WAS HOPING WE DIDN'T HAVE TO, BUT SHE CALLED MY PARTNER AND I UP FIRST. SO SHE STOPPED US AT A PART WHERE WE HAD TO TALK ABOUT OUR SISTERS, AND I WAS LIKE, ''MS. I DON'T HAVE A SISTER.'' AND THEN SHE WAS LIKE, ''IMPROVISE.'' AND I WAS LIKE, ''HOW AM I GONNA IMPROVISE HAVING A SISTER WHEN I DON'T HAVE ONE?'' THEN SHE STARTED GROWING IMPATIENT, HER EGOTISTICAL ASS, AND THEN WE KEPT GOING BACK AND FORTH. SHE WAS GIVING ME ATTITUDE, I GAVE HER MY POKER FACE. THEN SHE TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND TOLD ME TO GO AGAIN. I SAID I DON'T HAVE A SISTER AND SHE YELLED AT ME, ''I SEE POTENTIAL IN YOU!'' I WAS LIKE WTF, BACK TF UP, AND THEN SHE WAS LIKE, ''THIS IS WHY YOU'RE NOT MAKING IT TO BROADWAY!'' THEN I GOT SCARED BECAUSE THE TOPIC OF BROADWAY NEVER CAME UP, AND THEN SHE TOLD ME TO START AGAIN. MY PARTNER WAS JUST CHUCKLING AS WE KEPT TALKING AND SO WAS THE ENTIRE CLASS, AND THEN I STARTED AGAIN, BUT BEFORE I EVEN SAID A WORD, I TURNED TO HER AND SAID, ''BUT I DON'T HAVE A SISTER…'' AND THEN SHE GOT MAD AND TOLD ME TO GO TO THE OFFICE. I WALKED OUT WITHOUT MY STUFF AND THEN JUST SAT AT MY COUNSELOR'S OFFICE AND SHE STARED AT ME, CHUCKLING AS I TOLD HER THE STORY. SO THEN THE BELL RANG AND I HAD TO GO TO BULLSHIT GEOMETRY, FUCK MATH, BUT I STILL HAD TO GET ALL MY STUFF. THE SUB STARED AT ME AND WE EYED EACH OTHER FOR A WHILE, INSIDE THIS EMPTY ASS CLASSROOM AND SHE STARTED APPROACHING ME AND I TOOK OFF OUT OF THE DOOR!**

 **AND THEN, GEOMETRY HIT AND MY TEACHER WAS ALL SALTY AND UPSET AND SHIT, AND SHE TOOK IT OUT ON OUR CLASS. SHE TOLD US ABOUT HER FUTURE BABY NAMES, AND THEN I ASKED HER, 'CAN I BE THE GODFATHER?' SHE WAS LIKE, ''NO!'' BUT SHE SAID IT IN A MEAN ASS WAY, AND SHE'S USUALLY NICE SO I WAS THROWN OFF. SO THEN I WHISPERED UNDER MY BREATH, 'SO YOU WANT A WHITE GODFATHER, HUH? I SEE HOW IT IS.' AND THEN THE KID SITTING NEXT TO ME STARTED LAUGHING AND TALKING TO ME, AND I DIDN'T KNOW WHO THE KID WAS, DESPITE SITTING WITH HIM FOR HALF A YEAR, AND THEN HE TRIED TO GET A CONVERSATION GOING AND I WAS LIKE, 'WTF, THIS IS WEIRD, D-DON'T TOUCH ME.' AND THEN HE STARTED LAUGHING AGAIN AND THEN IT GOT EVEN MORE WEIRD, SO I DID FUCKING COSINE, SIN, TANS, WHATEVER TF YOU DO WITH SHAPES AND SHIT. AFTER THAT, SHE STARTED GETTING EVEN MORE MAD, AND THEN SHE STARTED YELLING AT THE CLASS. SHE THEN BROUGHT UP A STORY THAT HAPPENED TO HER IN 2ND PERIOD ABOUT THIS KID WHO SAID SOMETHING SEXUALLY ABOUT HER, AND SHE WAS 24, SO I MEAN, HIGHSCHOOL BOYS, WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT? THEN I STARTED CHUCKLING BECAUSE OF A VIDEO I SAW ON INSTA ON MY PHONE, AND THEN SHE LOOKED AT ME AND GAVE ME A SMUG LOOK, SO I WAS LIKE ''TF?!'' AND THEN SHE TURNED AROUND AND SMILED. THEN I STARTED DOING MY WORK AGAIN AND PUT MY HEAD DOWN BECAUSE I WAS DONE, SO SHE SLAPPED MY DESK AND STARTED YELLING AT ME AND I WAS CONFUSED. LIKE BITCH, I THOUGHT YOU LOVED EVERY STUDENT IN YOUR CLASS AND I WAS BEING SINGLED OUT! SO THEN WE, UM, WELL, I WHISPERED SOMETHING I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T OF UNDER MY BREATH AND SHE GOT SO PISSED. SO I WAS LIKE, ''YOU'RE TAKING YOUR ANGER OUT ON ME BECAUSE SOME KID SAID SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR PUSSY?'' AND THEN IT WAS SO WEIRD, BECAUSE I THOUGHT EVERYTHING WAS LOUD BUT IT GOT HELLA QUIET SO SHE SENT ME TO THE OFFICE, BUT I WENT TO MY COUNSELOR AGAIN AND SHE MADE ME CLEAN HER ROOM ;((((((((**

 **S-Stop. I swear… o_o Also, it's 'shouldn't HAVE', not 'shouldn't of'. 'Shouldn't of' has no grammatical sense. FUCK GHRAMMER**

 **STOP. NO MORE. IT HAS EXCEDED 500 WORDS. ABORT. ABORT. xD NO WAIT, I'M NOT DONE YET!**

 **WELL FUCKING HURRY UP**

 **Oh, yeah! So Ansley called his profile pic sexy, right? And he looks exactly like an eight year-old.**

 **I DO NOT!**

 **Sureeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!**

 **I AM A GROWN BOY!**

 **I WILL FIND THE CONVERSATION WE HAD FROM BEFORE AND COPY AND PASTE IT INTO HERE IF I HAVE TO.**

 **NO BALLS, NO BALLS, YOU WON'T!**

 **Ha, shit! Wanna try me?!**

 **TEMPTATION. TESTIMONIAL. TEMPTATION. SQUEAL!**

 **I will fucking find it. It might take long bUT I WILL DO IT.**

 **WAIT, WAIT..! My head hurts, calm tf down. SHIT, DID YOU REALLY GO LOOKING FOR THAT TOPIC? WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO EXPOSE ME LIKE THIS? ;u**

 **Dude my head hurts. I just mixed tequila and champagne together ten times in a full glass bottle and drank it. I'm glad I turned my auto correct on.**

 **LOL CHILL**

 **Omfg. xD I tried looking for it but found all this shit xD**

 **LOL WHY?!**

 **I have no balls? Try me. FIGHT ME**

 **I WILL! ANY DAY OF THE FUCKING WEEK! THAT INCLUDES MONDAY, TUESDAY, THURSDAY, FRIDAY, AND SUNDAY!**

 **Oh, yeah? Really? Fucking bitch won't fight on Saturdays. Weak.**

 **LMAO, YOU'RE GONE FOR AT LEAST 10 HOURS ON SATURDAY, HOW TF AM I GONNA FIGHT YOU? YOU EXPECT ME TO WAKE UP AT 6 IN THE MORNING FOR THIS SHIT?!**

* * *

 _Question One: Who is the better collab partner? And yes you have to answer this dammit- No, fuck this question, Brooke. I've come to the conclusion that you're the better collab partner, and idgaf xD_

 _BRUH THAT QUESTION IS FOR COMEDY WHY ARE YOU GUILT-TRIPPING ME LIKE THIS?!_

 _Guilt-tripping? Lmfao, nah, I could care less about that question, I don't even care anymore, ha ha. This is all just for some fun bullshit ;D_

 _That's what I said. Comedy._

 _Question Two: Do you like Magnaria? If yes or no, why?_

 _Question Three: Did you character get in? Are you still gonna read? *smiles hopefully*_

* * *

 **Mmkay, is the chapter finished now? xD**

 **Lol, yeah, post this bitch.**

 **Your sugar high over or something?**

 **WAIT! lol nah, i just don't have caps on! Wait, wait… Are we done with this chapter now? o_o I mean you can finish your story xD Lol, holy shit, boy, do I have a couple of things to tell you… Oh, oh, my God, life is hectic af ;U STOP SAVE THIS FOR NExt CHAPTER**

 **Fine! I'm gonna go impliment, implemint, implement.**

 **When you can't spell. It's implement. YAEH BITCH GOT IT FIRST TRY. I don't. I exceed at everything because I'm Asian.**

 **Shut up XD You don't understand the struggles, fucking hoe :/**


	4. District One

**District One - Reaping, Goodbyes & Train Rides**

* * *

 **Kent Castell, 17;**

 **District One Citizen**

* * *

''G-Guys... I really d-don't think that we should be doing this,'' says Amar, his gaze locked on the Peacekeeper truck. Earlier today, just for this special occasion, I wrapped plastic all around the vehicle, just to see how they would react. And on top of that, I throw a trash bag on top of the vehicle and strapped it to the truck in some tight rope. The only thing with this trash bag, though, is that it's in shape of a human body – this will for sure freak those damn Peacekeepers out.

''Oh, shut up, Amar!'' Oxford – the leader in our group – growls and turns his head back to me, smiling. ''I said that we would follow what Kent wanted to do today, and we are. Got a problem with it, then get out, got that?'' Just as Amar's about to reply, Oxford cuts him off. ''Ah! Just be quiet and watch!''

''Yeah!'' shouts Angie. That spitfire girl is always in for some type of devious act – I don't think anybody should be surprised by now. She's practically infamous around the District – and when she's with Oxford, they're like an unstoppable duo. Just the type of people I can use to my advantage... I'm... I hate thinking about things like that...

There was nothing better than scaring Peacekeepers, though. The ones in this District – whenever scared – always lost all rationality and became monsters who would do anything they wanted. Unless you were to, um, give them favors of some sort. But nobody does that except for those desperate trainees. Fucking pigs.

As soon as the two main Peacekeepers – Castine and Jules – approached the van, they both jumped back in fear, even though it was stupid of them to be scared. The only problem here was that they always overthought everything, and because of that, they both pull out their rifles as quick as lightning and start shooting in all directions.

I swear to God that one of the bullets hit a tree right next to the bushes that all four of us were hiding in. ''Holy shit,'' Amar whispers, his body quivering with fear, and his face losing all color. Quickly, I turn around and press my hands against his lips.

''Who's there?!'' Castine yells out, and now I can't hold it in any longer. It was laughter that I could feel in my lungs, so hard that it nearly took my breath away. The lack of oxygen didn't matter, though. It was all _so_ worth it. My laughter, when Amar hears it, dismays all the feelings of distress that was in his brain.

I lost tightness in my chest, and suddenly, everyone else around me started laughing – just how I planned it to go. Immediately, I stop, now letting everyone else attract the attention. Castine and Jules come rushing through the bushes, automatically pointing their rifles at all four of us – somehow. Smiling to myself, I look straight into Castine's eyes and ask, ''How are you?''

He doesn't respond, a serious look on his face. Instead of giving up like any normal person would do, I quickly step back and grab Amar by his collar, push him right in front of the rifle, and push him into Castine, which knocks them both off balance. Now running away, the wind gushing against my hair, I listen to the noise going on in the background. I take a look over my shoulder, observing the mayhem going on.

''DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU BASTARD!'' Angie yells, swinging a left hook straight into Jules's jaw. Jules stumbles back, and Angie jumps on top of him, letting out a combo of punches.

You know, on a regular day I wouldn't be betraying _them –_ but everyone else is easily an option to leave – but I had to today. It's Reaping day, and I can't leave any regrets back. If I needed to use them in order to get away, then I needed to do so. This world isn't easy – it's survival of the fittest, and I'll do what I have to do in order to survive.

Although I hate that side of myself... I can't help it, but it doesn't matter. Whatever happens happens, and I'll deal with it. I don't know why I found myself laughing so hard, but all of a sudden, I couldn't stop. My breath came in quick gasps between my unstoppable giggles. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over.

This is just too much fun. And with that, I head to the Reaping.

* * *

 **Grace Orita, 12;**

 **District One Citizen**

* * *

I wake up to the same thing I see each day; a rickety, old bedpost and walls with peeling paper and mysterious stains. The fragile floors creak when I walk, echoing around my empty room eerily. Halfway across the house, I hear one of my parents turn on the faucet through the thin, hollow walls. It's kind of hard to think that this house would suffice for seven years.

It's a common stereotype that District One citizens have the absolute _best_ of everything, like money, a house, and a reputation - but no one cares enough to find out for themselves, and instead nod along blindly. But there is always the few exceptions that come along with each generalization, and my family is a category by itself.

We... lost _everything._ An incident happened seven years ago, and since then we were known as the outcast family. Failures. The snow in the center of lush, green grass. The looks get kind of tiring after a while, but what's really sad is that I've gotten used to it after all these years…

Instead of a dress like all the girls my age wear, I force my feet through a beaten pair of jeans and a thick, gray sweater. It's perhaps one of the few intact outfits I own, and often I get jealous of the other girls and how well-off they are. I told myself there was nothing to be jealous of, but sometimes you get tired of telling yourself things. And so you just give up altogether.

I finish changing in a matter of seconds, shoving my feet into my worn sneakers in a defiant fashion. I'd never show rebellion out in public, but with the privacy of my home it is possible to do anything.

Facing the door, I head outside to join the citizens of District One in my first Reaping. The prospect of the Reaping itself seems so terrifying, but perhaps the real thing isn't so petrifying…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.

The escort has just finished delivering the speech, and is making her stride towards the female Reaping pool. The click of her heels threatens me with each step, like every second was a knife stab to the ribs. I felt my heart pummeling in my chest, as if I was going to get Reaped. I wasn't, and even if I was, someone would volunteer... right?

The volunteer this year was a girl named Emireld Dashes. The girl was 17 years old, and was partly the reason for my family's poverty, as her parents had made the bet with _my_ parents that ruined our lives. She was taught to gloat at us, and so she did. She despises me, and the feeling is mutual… at least, I try.

Out here I feel like a child, like a coward - both of which I am. My parents are horrified at the thought of losing me, and despite of the loss of money, they had hope for a future because of me. But what happens if I am Reaped? What will become of them?

A cold, menacing hand tightens its grip on my heart. It absolutely tears me to think of my family going through more pain than they already have. My parents have enough troubles other than my risk of being called to a death match. I don't need to confront them with another of my problems, and I surely need not create more.

There is absolutely no time to continue this, though, because at that moment Grace Orita is called.

Grace Orita.

 _It's me_ , I think hazily to myself.

An ice-cold quiver skips down my spine, and my head hurts. A lot… but this is Emireld's year to volunteer. I'm not going to _really_ die, will I? She wouldn't give up her chance for glory just to relish my death, would she? Unless, she really hates me _that_ much… but I've never done anything to her!

However, apparently I've done something to her parents. And parents are one of the most influential beings in the world. They could've trained their precious pup Emireld to believe _anything._

I've tried to be kind to everyone, but because of my family's reputation, no one cared. No one gave me a second look. But now, of all times, each one of their stares are pinpointed towards me, making me feel unworthy and miniscule. I don't want this kind of attention…! I-I don't believe for one second this is really going on right now.

Emireld crosses her arms, a smug look crossing her face. Weirdly enough, the pose seems… unnatural. She holds her gaze on me, occasionally looking back to threaten anyone to volunteer. Her eyes hover like laser beams over me, and she says nothing. The silence is absolutely deafening.

Without warning, I burst into tears. The water streaking down my face is absolutely quiet, but soon turns into muffled sobs. I try as best as I can to lower my cries, but no matter what I do my voice is persistent to match the pitch of a siren. The sound echoes over the crevices of the streets, and into the stores surrounding Town Square. It brings an ache to my ears, but _I can't stop._

Is this Fate's version of a joke? A cruel, heartless joke?

* * *

 **Kent Castell, 17;**

 **District One Citizen**

* * *

I stand in the aisle, between all these other surrounding kids. Surprisingly, a tribute got _Reaped_. Yeah, in District One… How? I don't know, but this is absolutely ridiculous. Emireld Dashes was supposed to volunteer, but then when I see the girl who walks up - Grace Orita - I know why she didn't volunteer. There's a small grin on her face, one that shows how amusing this is to her. From what I can tell, she despises this little girl.

She's such a fraud - such a charlatan. I don't understand the point in doing that, but it's her call. Now turning my attention back to our escort, I don't even realize as a small boy begins mounting the stage, and I'm snapped back into reality. ''I VOLUNTEER!'' I yell out, my voice hoarse and my hands raised high above my head, my shoulders broad and standing tall. Everyone turns their gazes towards me, and I gulp.

Slowly, I step out of the aisle and jitter incessantly. For some reason, though, my body begins to feel relaxed and I smile, nodding my head as I walk up. The boy quickly steps down and runs back to his spot, while I stand and think about what's going on. Our escort begins speaking, but I'm too much in thought to realize what she's saying. Suddenly, the little crying girl grabs my hand and hesitantly shakes it.

Our escort asks me for my name, after how many times now, and I finally answer. ''Kent,'' I smile. ''Kent Castell.'' The idea of volunteering really bothered me at first, but maybe backstabbing can get me places. I know that I won't get far without taking advantage of what I want, and with all these skills that I've learned, I can win.

Turning my head away from Grace, I feel my a strong grip grab my hand and throw me inside the Justice Building. In no time, my family barges into the room and the smile on my face dissipates. I slowly look up while taking off my bandana - the one that I used to hide my face from the Peacekeepers.

My father looks down at me, his gaze capturing my face. I stare into his green eyes, and he says, ''You did it, Kent. Good job, I couldn't have asked for more.'' Ignoring his words, I turn away, trying not to let anger get over me. I just can't stand him. Both him and my mom are both annoying.

''You know what would've happened if you didn't,'' my mother brings up. Looking up at her, I shake my head, just to tease the both of them. She frowns, placing a serious look on her face. ''You would've been kicked out and disowned, Kent. And we don't want to do it. This is best for you, I hope you understand that.''

 _Best for me?_ 'You don't know what's best for me,'' I place my hands on my knees, sighing and shaking my head. ''Only I do, and I do what _I_ think is best for me. You guys can't control me, and no matter how much you think I'll listen to you, I won't.''

My mother grits her teeth, and my father shows a bit of anger as well. Good. I know that this isn't time for joking, because this is serious, but everytime they open their mouth, I want to scream. I love them, I truly do, but they annoy the crap out of me. Now, my mom starts yelling at me, shouting all sorts of insults. ''Don't you understand, you rebellious child?! We're trying to help you, but you won't listen! What is wrong with you?! We don't want you to end up like Riley - failing to find a job! If she listened, maybe you wouldn't have to be in this situation. You insolent-''

''Who raised her, mom?'' I quickly stand up, shouting at her. She steps back, staring at me. Every word stung, only fueling the fire that was inside me. Every single violated phase was like gasoline, and it kept on pouring and pouring. I clenched my fist and rooted my jaw, but then it quickly dissipates, and I smile at her cheekily. I don't think she understand the disingenuous insult that I just lied out, though, but I get it - and Riley does, too.

''Kent, don't say-'' Riley starts, but I quickly cut her off.

''Riley, don't even say anything!'' I hate myself for doing this. I love Riley, she's my sister, but I can't help but feel resentment towards both her and my parents. This is how I treat her now, ever since they took her away from me. My best friend, my favorite person in the world. I adore them all, want to make up with them, but I can't. My hate overpowers my love, and I can't deal with them anymore. ''You're no better than them, so why don't you all just leave? That'd be better for everyone else here.''

''Ke-''

''Get out!'' Like I demanded, all three of them walk out without saying a final word. Riley turns around one more time, sparing me a last peep before walking out the Justice Building door. When she leaves, Amar, Oxford and Angie all walk in. Angie and Oxford keep their eyes on me while Amar darts his eyes left and right, leaving his hands behind his back.

''Why'd you do it?'' Amar says in a banal way. I stare up at him, a faltering smile on my face, my lips quivering just a little bit. When he looks up, I watch as tears flow unchecked down his cheeks and drip from his chin. He didn't wail, he just stood there as still as a statue while the magnitude of his sadness swept over him. ''Y-Y-You p-pushed me into C-Castine, a-and w-we're a-all g-g-getting wh-whipped l-later…''

''Listen, Amar,'' I say, passing by Angie and Oxford to reach Amar, and stand right in front of him, my hand placed comfortably on his shoulder. ''I don't think I've ever told you this, but from time-to-time, I usually have random spaz attacks and I don't know why they happen. My family has never mentioned it, and I've always kept it a secret,'' I lie, wanting to use this to my advantage. After all, it is my last day in District One - even for good, maybe. ''So I'm sorry that I might have gotten you guys in trouble. I tried calling out for you, but I guess none of you heard me.''

''I-It's okay,'' Amar smiles. ''I believe you, and even if we do get whipped, at least you're safe.''

 _Yeah. Safe. Sure._

''Hey, kick some ass in the Arena for me, okay?'' Angie demands, punching my shoulder lightly. Oxford smiles and pumps his fist along with her, and we all just kinda stare at each other for a moment's notice.

''Yeah, and you better come back, too,'' Oxford sighs, just a small and meek threat with no real value. ''If you don't, who will be my second-in-command? Angie? Amar?''

''Yeah, we wouldn't want either of those two getting to be in charge, now would we?'' I joke, and Oxford and I begin laughing together. Amar joins in, but his laughter is quite faint and nervous-sounding; while Angie, on the other hand, has a serious look on her face, and she looks like she's about to tear this place up.

''What's wrong with me being second-in-command?'' She grits her teeth and tightens her jaw. Her eyes flashed heat waves at me, making me chuckle nervously. The words now erupted from her mouth, ''I will beat your ass, Kent. Say something else about me not being able to be in charge again and I'll mess you up!'' The final hiss in her voice warned me about her feelings.

Slowly, I bring my hand up to the back of my head and scratch it. I honestly don't see how some people can be so serious. I guess my joking personality is blinded by their seriousness. ''I was just kidding, Angie, calm down.'' She's not going to calm down yet, if I know Angie correctly. And when people are feeling sad or pitiful or angry or whatever, I like to make them smile.

Cautiously walking back now, I observe my surroundings and manage to fall back against the wall and grab a hold of the luxurious curtains, ripping them from their holders and send cloth flying throughout the air. As soon as I land on the ground, my hand slaps the small desk beside the wall and knocks a vase off of it, sending a loud crash emitting through the air.

Instantly, Angie, Oxford and Amar all begin dying of laughter, the corner of their eyes covered with small tears. If I'm being honest, you could hear their sweet, joyful laughter from a mile away. The sound echoed and bounced across the room, and my little stunt seemed to be cheering everyone up. It's times like these where I love making people happy.

Carefully listening to the pounding on the floor, I watch as the door flies open and in comes rushing two Peacekeepers. They grab all three of my friends forcefully without a word and begin pulling them out of the room. ''Hey!'' Angie screams, and I shake my head, knowing that she's gonna get them into more trouble. ''Get your filthy hands off of me!''

A loud crunch sound is heard, and one of the Peacekeeper's scream from outside the hallway. ''I'll beat your ass!'' Angie's voice rings once again, and this time I can't help but chuckle to myself. Oh, what a lovely group of friends I have.

Though I still hate myself for using them the way that I did. But I can't feel this way now. Those skills that I've picked up - betraying people and using them as my own personal toys, throwing them away whenever I have no more use for their company - will be useful for the Games, and I intend on them taking full effect.

It might take some time, but it'll work. All I have to do is get them to like me, and soon enough I can be home free, where I can live my life how _I_ want to live it.

Not how my parents want me to live it. Not how my friends do. And definitely not how Riley does.

How _I_ want to.

* * *

 **Grace Orita, 12;**

 **District One Tribute**

* * *

Since the Reaping that happened roughly ten minutes ago, I've been in a state of passiveness. I didn't struggle. I didn't sob. Everything was done in small, careful movements that involved in the least bit of thinking. Things like sitting. Lying down. Sniffing. Breathing.

But even breathing seemed hard. I was going to die in the Games anyway - what was the point of it? Why didn't I just… die? Right here? There was absolutely nothing stopping me; I could do it.

But how could I even think of that? I'm too much of a coward to even attempt to hurt myself. I wouldn't. I could _never._

I didn't dare let a single thought of my family enter my mind, because I knew that if I did, I would start bawling. My heart was in too much of a weak state to handle that. My hands were just starting to dry from wiping my eyes; I didn't need anymore tear stains, at least not until my family comes in for real.

Oh, crap! I'm thinking about them right now. No no no _no no no no no._ Not now. Think of -

The room!

My mind rapidly tracks down the nearest enhancement I could find - the walls. They were richly colored, with all different shades of burgundy, red, and mauve. The pattern was of elegant seashells and other various ornaments. I liked it quite a lot, actually. It made me feel very serene inside, despite the lethal tension that was hanging in the air.

I was about to go to the next piece of furniture until a click at the door was heard, revealing none other than my parents.

My family can do nothing but cry, especially my father. He believes that the gods have put our family in this situation because of his sins and his impulsiveness.

"I'm so, so sorry, Grace," he stutters, gripping my thin, pale arms with grief. "This is… this is all my fault. And you're getting punishe-"

"Father! No, don't say that!" I cry, but he seems to be oblivious to my words. "That was long ago. It has absolutely nothing to do with m-my… Reaping." I want to scream as I say the _word_ \- it was because of this simple event that I was being sent to my death!

He doesn't seem to understand in the slightest. "Grace, will you ever forgive me?"

"Yes, of course! You didn't do anything wrong to begin with…!"

"Your death and our misfortune will always be grave burden to carry. I-It's all because of my rash behavior, down at the betting station. All because of that District Five girl winning, instead of the District Seven male, I risked this family's life on."

I nod understandingly, like he wasn't the reason for our poverty. Maybe he was to blame for the family's misfortune, but it's not like he had rigged the Reapings so that I would be gone from his life.

But I might have a chance. At survival, I mean. Perhaps I'll be able to win…

N-No! I can't even afford the cost of giving myself false hope. My family couldn't even buy a training membership for me, and I have no weapon knowledge. I'm a complete goner.

"Oh, it really is my fault. That girl… that girl was supposed to volunteer, no? She didn't. She's always hated this family, because of her dad and his pride. Her dad was the one we lost the bet to."

"What are you saying, Father? I already know about this. This doesn't relate to me being Rea- oh." Realization dawns on me as if someone had poured liquid truth onto my shoulders. Holy shi- no…

Just like earlier today, I burst into tears but instead of the raging waterfalls from the Reaping, they're mild and trickling down my cheeks deliberately. It's - it was rather unnatural for the way I usually behaved, but this time I was shocked. Father really had played a small part in my soon-to-be death. This couldn't be happening!

Mother must've sensed the fear in my eyes. "I'm sorry, dear…" she choked, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "But there's nothing to do now. Just… just enjoy your last time with us, in the Capitol, okay? Enjoy it for us."

Nodding, the lump in my throat begins to stop swelling. My mother was usually so strong, and I've never seen her tear up before. But there's a first time for everything.

I didn't want my mother to cry. I didn't want my father to keep blaming himself. I _certainly_ didn't want my parents to be depressed about me forever. But I never wanted to be Reaped to begin with. We'd just have to live with these challenges, no? I can't… I can't change it. But maybe some things are meant to be. Like this last, blissful family moment. If I'm going to die, I'd want to do it thinking about all the things I love.

* * *

 **Train Rides**

 **Third Person (because Brooke loves their third person…)**

* * *

The two mentors that year were on edge. Aiden Petrova had nothing to worry about - at least, he wouldn't have to worry if the second mentor from last year hadn't been replaced. Lee Sinclair was forced to give up her job of mentoring to support her sister.

Normally, it wouldn't have been a big deal if she left. There was an abundance of Victors in District One - at least, there used to be. Ever since District Seven had been added automatically to the Career selection, the number of District One Victors dropped immensely. The District still won every few years, but the gap was at an average of four years to eight in a matter of decades.

And yet still, one would think that at least one person was willing to take up the spot of the other mentor? No. The remaining problem wasn't fixed because the whole of District One Victors were lazy, patronizing assholes. Not a single person came forward to take up the job as Mentor; no one except Allister Jule.

The problem with Allister is that he wasn't technically a Victor. Well-trained, yes - intelligent, yes - but not anywhere near the high status of a Victor. The boy was chosen to volunteer two years ago at age eighteen, but instead of doing so, his supposed best friend decided to claim fame for himself.

He had died in the Bloodbath, and placed 21st. Oddly enough, Allister seemed like he couldn't care less. He went about his life as if he never missed the chance to volunteer.

It wasn't fair that Allister was permitted to even give these tributes advice when he had no experience himself. Aiden had killed four children in cold-blood, and yet this _Allister_ was considered equal to him. He was too weak to volunteer! Too weak to kill! And yet, in a few charming moves, he gained Aiden's position in a heartbeat.

It was infuriating, but Aiden didn't care. At least, he tried not to. Aiden had a reputation to hold, and being pettily jealous over another boy was only going to cause unnecessary drama.

So when Allister entered the train five minutes after the tributes had boarded, Aiden only put on a nonchalant expression, as if to say, "You're a peasant. You don't bother me."

Allister shot back with a glare equivalent to him that read, "I don't give a fuck. I'm a king, bitch."

So there he was. Allister was officially a mentor, despite never winning the Games.

The boy came in half an hour late for his new job and even dared to insult Aiden, the obviously more respectable mentor. _What a wonderful impression,_ Aiden thought bitterly to himself. His killing days were over, but he was willing to change that in order to rid the world of Allister Jule.

"Sorry I'm late," he said boredly, and proceeded to whistle a melody under his breath as if he had no care in the world.

The two tributes on the couch, Kent and Grace, watched the two mentors as if they were a play waiting to unfold. Kent chuckled under his breath, his legs dangling off the couch. Grace sniffed loudly.

Aiden had mixed feelings about his tributes. Kent seemed full of surprises - careless, even, but something about him put Aiden at unease. Kent might've been less strong than the average District One male, but his mental state was as strong as a metal coil. Flexible, and unbreakable.

Grace, however, was… rather peculiar. She was possibly the first ever Reaped tribute from District One in centuries. It was alarming, how much the people of District One despised her and her family. Aiden briefly wondered how she coped, but decided it wasn't important - what was significant was the strategy needed to get one of these tributes out alive.

"Let's get started," Aiden announced, clapping his hands together loudly. "Do you two want to train together or separately?"

Kent stared at Grace for a while, and after a few seconds he responded. "Together."

Grace glanced at him, utterly shocked. "R-Really?"

The lanky boy nodded. "'Course! I can teach you lots of things, too. I've always wanted a younger sister."

Grace beamed at him. Aiden had to admit he was surprised as well. He flared his brows upwards, but nodded. Kent had something up his sleeves. "Very well," Aiden declared. He took a pen and wrote Kent's answer. "You'll be trai-"

Aiden was rudely interrupted by a deafening snort coming from besides him.

"Holy _shit!_ " Allister cackled, a jolt of mirth running down his body and contorting his face. "You want to train with… with _her?!_ "

Kent glared at him. "Yeah, what if I do?" He protested, although it seemed fake. "It's not illegal, is it?"

The younger mentor smirked, still snickering like an immature toddler. "It might as well be. Look at her, she's so goddamn weak. She's gonna die in the Bloodbath - wait, no! She's going to place _25th!"_ Another laugh racked through his spine despite the fact that what he said was nowhere near funny.

However, the 17 year-old had a spark of amusement in his eyes. In a flash it disappeared and the boy turned to argue with the mentor yet again.

Aiden decided it was time to cut the debate. "Allister, it's his choice. The tributes decide what they want to do with their time, and it's up to them to count on their own survival."

Allister rolled his eyes. "No. The truth is that the tributes can't do squat to fix their lives. It's the mentor's job to keep the tributes alive, because it's obvious they can't do it themselves. I'm Kent's mentor, and he's going to live, thanks to me."

Aiden tried to laugh, but it came out as a violent howl. "That's-" he began, but ceased. "Look. It says that _I'm_ Kent's Mentor," he said, as he thrusted a piece of paper in the brainless boy's hand.

The younger mentor rolled his eyes. "This is some major bullshit," he announced, and tore up the paper in half.

Aiden stared, gape-mouthed at the deceased paper as Kent laughed brightly. Allister stood smug, his arms crossed in a moment of defiance.

Deciding he'd had enough, Aiden poised his mouth to yell as soon as Grace bawled. "I knew it - nobody wants me!" She exclaimed tearfully as she barreled down the hallway, and into her room.

 _What did I ever do to deserve this?_ Aiden thought to himself, fuming. He crumpled up the mentor sheet until it turned into small bits of paper, shredded from his fingernails.

* * *

 **A/N: AYEEEEEEEEE!**

 **A: *cough***

 **B: *cough***

 **A: *cough***

 **B: Wtf I didn't type that. I'm gone for a minute and this happens. We all have allergies, thanks to youuuuu**

 **A: Is it because I'm so irresistbally contagiou FUCK OMG I CAN'T SPELL ;-; AGHIAHIHGIHA**

 **B: I'm laughing inside xD IRRESISTIBLY**

 **A: I'm crying on the inside ;-; It's been five sentences in, and three coughs, and I've already embarrassed myself Dx**

 **B: It's normal so no worries xD**

 **A: True. I'm always getting exposed or saying stupid crap… But it's my job. The government told me to, and I… I can't say anymore. They said Obama would send missiles to my school, and destroy all… ;-; All my frans, all my homez, erythan ;-;**

 **B: Lolokay good for you ^_^**

 **A: Obama Care**

 **B: is the equivalent to "Donald Trump's gonna steal your money"**

 **A: XD We should all move to Canada. I don't… I don't wanna ;u I'm crying, he's gonna get elected, and my life is gonna be ruined. They're gonna send me to Africa. :/ I'm gonna have to sprint to get on the first couple of seats on the good boats (there are no good boats) and cry ;-; I'm gonna cry and drown and die and starve and die and then I'm gonna be staring down on everyone, wondering how I dieded**

 **B: You know, if Trump kicks out all the immigrants America would technicallyyyyy be empty of humans until four years later but no one's there to elect him out of office so**

 **A: So in… *counts on fingers* eight years! Which will be… 201- NO, 2024! Haha, take that, Math! Told y'all I could do it! Anyway, yeah, we can all come back and get our revenge on the old basta- fart c:**

 **B: THis is great omfg xD**

 **A: Lol, I almost got shot xD**

 **B: I keep hearing gun clicks in my backyard.**

 **A: Are you sure they aren't fireworks? Because, you know, the Froth of Julie is coming, so maybe people are getting reddy early.**

 **B: During the day? Uh-huh. Of course. :D**

 **A: I… No o_o Buy my mixtape. I'll be selling on the internet, in the seas (if you live somewhere near the Bermuda Triagnel. Idc, I'm not backspacing and fixing my errors =-=) and everywhere else in the World.**

 **B: YOU WON'T SEND ANYONE THE LINK TO YOUR MIXTAPE XD**

 **A: You swear I won't XD I'll do it, I'll do anything.**

 **B: Lolwut *cue dramatic music***

 **A: www. BriefCaseDoesn'tTakeThisShitMixtapeTooSwag360NOSCOPEMLGPROFreeThrowNoScopeEatBabies.**

 **B: Also, the fucking blog still isn't done xD You can still look at it, but it's not finished. Courtesy of Ansley.**

 **A: Wait, when did we ever send out the blog link?! O_O I'm confused. And yeah, I still need to finish District Eleven and Twelve. UMMMM.**

 **B: We didn't send the blog link, but I will right now.**

 **A: NO, I WILL. WAROFVIRTUES. BLOGSPOT ansleyiskindofstupid (true), HA! Dude, I owe so many people money xD I still owe this kid ten bucks for a bet that happened last year, and everytime we see each other in the school courtyard, he eyes me and I'm like. ''._.''**

 **B: Hah people owe ME money xD**

 **A: Only two people owe me money xD This one kid owes me 50, because he's just… He asked me to give him one page of homework, so I was just joking and said you need to give me fifty, and he said okay and gave me 20 on the spot, and 10 a couple of days ago. I… I feel bad, but hey… Money is money. The world revolves around money. Money revolves around Money. Our solar system revolves around Money. After all, how was the sun made? Exactly, Zues threw one dollar bills for millions of years until that giant gas giant thing filled with gas and solar flares got somewhere into the earth and the earth is now made and only a couple of things are left and now I'm just… I'm happy. HEY! Wait, in 2024…. I'm gonna make a spaceship c: So then, I can travel to Uranus. And Neptune ;D**

 **B: I… I can't even deal with this right now xD I'M SO bleh TODAY**

 **A: Yo, this other kid owes me money. -.- So we live in the same neighborhood, and he calls me to pick him up so I hop in some random stranger's car real quick, since he left the engine running, and I go to pick him up. This man makes me drop him off to two houses down, and he says he was lazy. So he also had an aux cord, so he blasted music with literally five seconds to spare. And he was yelling at me because I took more than two minutes so I was like, ''I'M HERE NOW! I'M HERE NOW! I'M HERE NOW, OMG!'' And then I asked him for gas money, and we were like IJHGOASHIOGHAIOHIOGHIOAH and he was like, ''YOU LITERALLY TOOK ME FIFTEEN FEET, HOW IS THAT 20 DOLLARS?! THIS ISN'T EVEN YOUR CAR!'' So then we came to an agreement, and now he owes me 20 ;u**

 **B: We should advertise our Asks here ;))))))))) LOL FFN COMMUNITY MAKE ASKS NOW SO WE CAN DOMINATE THE SITE WITH OUR FANFICTION SHITS**

 **A: Wait, but why ;-;**

 **B: Because world domination is fun, obviously.**

 **A: Lol nah, you're crazy. You can plot out your world domination scheme while I'll be in the background, relaxing and drinking orange juice while trying to figure out how I can meet up with 20+ celebrity females and go on random dates, buy them coffee, and somehow get digits, only to end up being friendzoned becaused, ''You're 15 and look like you're 8, honey.'' :U Life is so… so rough, maine.**

 **B: Fine ;U I'll just gather up Reader and Wizard and we can blow up stuff. We are the Russian/Reptilian Mafia.**

 **A: o.o I'm gonna… Yeah, okay xD**

 **B: Ending the A/N? XD IT'S BEEN 6360 WORDS WUT**

 **A: You will not talk to your moms like that.**

 **B: Mom(s). Who's the other one, Mom #1? AM I SERIOUSLY ADOPTED?! Sorry I has to go**

 **A: ._- I… I thought.. That ain't got nothing to do with you! WAIT, OMG NO UPDATE IT! FORGET IT, IF YOU HAVE TO LEAVE UPDATE IT!**

* * *

 **QUESTIONS:**

 **FAVORITE POV/?**

 **FAVORITE TRIBUTE?**

 **GOOD CHAPTER OR NO?**

 **UMMM… WAS THE AN FUN 2 READ?**

* * *

 **BYE ! :)**

 **GO GO GO GO GO THIS HAS TO BE UPDATED TODAY ;-; ARE YHU DOING IT? O.O**


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